


Not that bad afterall

by hopelessly_me



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 46,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me
Summary: Clint Barton is used to life having ups and downs. But with the arrival of a new teammate, Clint isn't sure if the team can survive once the media gets their hands on them.





	1. Hey, sorry man!

Clint knew he was making a mistake, but that wasn’t exactly anything new to him. He had a rough day- well, week really. His last mission had been a massive failure- or, rather, almost was. How they talked him into leading a team of newbies, Clint will never know. Damn Phil and his soothing Phil voice. When he finally made it home, with no one actually dead (which was shocking to be fair), Clint felt like he deserved a night of poor decisions on his part.

The bar was far more busy than it had ever been, which sucked because all Clint wanted to do was have a drink or three. His bar that usually only had locals in it, the typical crowd, overnight turned into some hipster place. Man buns as far as the eye could see, girls wearing fake black rimmed glasses with their band shirts, and craft beers. Clint briefly thought about walking back out and trying to find someone more his speed, but this was the closest place to his apartment because there was no way in hell he was going to stay in the damn tower and have to hear Captain Know-it-all lecture him about being the senior officer. Solid. Pass.

So Clint settled in for a night of hearing hipster talk. Kate would like this- Kate was younger and in this sort of scene. Clint looked at the label on his beer and took a drink. It wasn’t exactly horrible, but it wasn’t the cheap beer he was used to. Who needed fancy beer, anyway? His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to filter out the fifty different conversations going on. He considered again leaving before the fucker next to him started talking about Dog Cops. Now that was a conversation Clint could get into.  
It was three hours later, and Clint lost count of how many beers later that Clint found himself staggering out of the rowdy bar, his wallet feeling lighter from the two rounds he bought for everyone. Clint didn’t mind- he had more than enough money to spread around from time to time. And the hipsters weren’t as bad as he had originally thought, not that he was ever going to admit that to Kate. Nope- Kate could never find out. 

He cheered and waved as the door closed behind him and stumbled out to the curb. He saw the taxi parked there and he opened the door, collapsing on himself to get into the back. “Hey,” he greeted before rattling off his address.

For a taxi, this one sure smelled amazing. He dropped his arms onto either side of him and felt something more solid and higher than the seat. “Awww man, someone forgot their-” he began before he looked at the shocked face of a man, “-man. Holy- uh- hi.”

The man didn’t look impressed in the least, his eyes narrowed and dark, his jaw clenched. Clint straightened up to avoid touching the man further, hoping to lessen the murder gaze he recieved. The man’s hair hung loose around his face, barely grazing his shoulders, which didn’t help with the angry look in Clint’s opinion. The taxi driver looked just as confused by this situation.

“I can, uh, take a different-”

“Doesn’t matter,” the man said, looking away. “We can share,” he added, his voice softer.

“Hey, thanks man,” Clint said before settling in for the ride. 

The taxi driver said something in Spanish before he drove, and if Clint would just focus he probably could have made out the comment. As it was, Clint was more focused on feeling scrunched up in the taxi and breathing in the other male’s scent. What the hell was that smell?

Clint watched as the man leaned further away, his arm coming up to balance on the window, holding his head. He was handsome, even if he looked a bit rugged at the time. His eyes softened and Clint could make out the blue in them. He looked- hurt? Confused?

“Hey, Elsa, whats with the gloves?” Clint blurted out as soon as he noticed the gloves. “It’s August bud- it’s hotter than you.”

The man flinched. “Excuse me?” he asked.

“Which part?” Clint asked innocently enough, though he could feel a grin forming on his lips. That smile instantly faded when the man scowled. “Aww, no. Don’t be a homophobe. I was just- I mean-” he muttered as he ran his hands over his face.

“Elsa.”

Clint blinked and stared. “Elsa?” The man looked at him expectantly. “Oh! Come on! Everyone knows Elsa. She’s from that Disney movie Frozen. Y’know.” When the man didn’t look any more knowledgeable, Clint sang the chorus to Let It Go, earning him a wrinkled nose and the man looked away. “Oh come on, I since like an angel.”

“A dying one maybe,” the man muttered.

“Fair.” Clint sighed and moved around, trying to get comfortable. “Ugh, why are taxis so small!” he grunted angrily.

“They are fine for normal sized people.”

“Hey! I’m only six-three,” Clint protested. “Not all of us can be small.”

Clint tried his best to stay quiet throughout the rest of their journey. Despite good songs coming on the shitty taxi radio, Clint only hummed along with them, drumming his hands on his knees. He hated the silence, always had ever since becoming mostly deaf; and it wasn’t like Clint was good at idly sitting. He really should have walked home but with the tracksuits around and no real weapon on him for a change, Clint didn’t want to risk it too much.

The other man stayed perfectly quiet and hardly moved. His brooding expression stayed on his face the entire ride, his eyes scanning the street. Clint ached to hug the man, tell him it was going to be okay, and ask where the hell he got his soap or cologne or whatever it was he was wearing. Thankfully, Clint wasn’t near drunk enough to take on that challenge with the stranger sitting next to him.

“Oh hey, this is me!” Clint said. “You can drop me here. Super close enough.” He waited for their taxi to slow before hanging over more money than what was strictly necessary. “Thank you, man. Great ride.” He opened his door and smiled at the dark hair man. “Hey, sorry man!” The man looked over, his eyebrows raised. “It gets better, yeah? Life. Maybe cut the hair, shave that beard, and new year, new you, am I right?”

Clint didn’t bother to wait for any response before closing the door. He whistled tunelessly as he walked up the stairs of his apartment. He never hid this place from SHIELD or from the team really- it wasn’t like it was hard to find in the first place. The building was run down, sure, but he called his apartment home for so long it felt wrong to get rid of it to live fulltime at Avengers Tower, Stark Tower, whatever the monstrosity was called. Anyway- if he went back to the tower, Cap would be waiting up for a post mission talk and Clint was still not prepared for that- or drunk enough for that matter. So he climbed the stairs and made it inside.

“Aw, Lucky, no,” Clint mumbled, forgetting that Kate took Lucky back to LA with her. Sometimes he wondered what he deserved in life to lose a dog in a fictional custody battle.   
Clint fumbled his way out of his clothes as he headed to take a shower, leaving them in his wake. He barely stumbled his way into the shower without falling and turned it on as hot as he could tolerate to wash his worries away. If he wasn’t feeling floaty before, the combination of booze and steam really made his head feel lighter than a feather. He rewashed again, focusing all his energy on making sure he felt clean. He rarely felt clean after missions, and never felt clean for days after particularly hard missions. 

He forced himself to move when the water started to cool rapidly and slunk up the stairs to his bedroom. He shrugged on the loosest pants and shirt he could find before he curled up in bed. Clint had hoped he had drank enough to erase all the memories from the past four days, but as soon as his eyes closed, all the images started to flood back. He silently cursed Nat for being on a different, solo mission as he hugged himself and his blankets, pulling them closer and closer.

The last thing he remembered to do before falling asleep was take his hearing aids out and flick them to the nightstand.


	2. Reunited and it feels so good

Clint woke up for the third time that night, his head pounding and his shirt drenched in sweat. Clint sat up slowly, groaning as he pulled a leg up, his arms wrapping around it and his forehead touching his knee. He breathed as deeply as he could, trying to find his center again.

The last nightmare was courtesy of the three new agents, and their eagerness to complete a mission that they missed the obvious signs of a trap. Clint tried to keep things under control, but it spiraled so quickly that he was forced to take extreme measures. He could still feel the weight of the damn gun in his hand, which didn’t help with the fresh memories. 

So now Clint had yet another thing to dream about that would end up keeping him up at night. It used to be beatings from his father, his parents deaths, and other missions gone horrifically wrong, and now it was green eyes. Clint sighed and rubbed his forehead against his knee. He was going to have to have a serious talk with Coulson about his lack of leadership skills when it came to new agents; he just hoped Coulson wouldn’t use his soothing voice- stupid weakness.

Clint turned his head to check his clock when he felt ice run down his back. There was a light on, a light he knew for sure wasn’t on when he went to bed. Clint slowly crawled backwards, reaching to the nightstand for his hearing aids. He shoved them in as he made his way to his backup bow, his fingers itching from anticipation. He made a grab for the bow and a few spare arrows before he left his room.  
Clint made his way through the apartment slowly, taking aim with a putty arrow. He saw the kitchen light was on and inched his way closer. He paused only when he heard a soft voice swearing in flawless Russian and he slowly smiled. He set that arrow to the side and looked at the other three he had brought and nocked a slightly bulkier one. This was a once in a lifetime chance and there was no way he wasn’t going to take it. So he took a deep breath and slid a foot forward.

“If you use a net arrow on me, I will stab you.”

“Aw, Nat, no fair,” Clint whined playfully. “And better than the putty arrow I had ready.”

He peeked his head around the corner and watched as the red head stood over the stove, her back to him. Her arms were crossed and Clint was sure he could make out bandages on her wrists, another one over one delicate shoulder. Her hair was a disaster, which only happened when Natasha wasn’t at risk of being seen by anyone but him and a select few others.

Clint set his bow and the arrows down on the counter before he walked over to peer over her shoulder. “You know, you keep glaring at it, the water might actually boil.” His hands snaked their way around her midriff slowly, taking in the feel of her curves while he placed his head on her uninjured shoulder. Natasha leaned back against him and Clint took a deep breath. “Go relax- I’ve got this.”

Natasha didn’t argue, carefully peeling herself from Clint before going to his couch. Clint fixed up a simple pasta dish before he checked his watch. Three in the morning- what a life. Clint stood over the stove, occasionally stirring as he tried to keep his eyes open. The way the noodles were twirling in the pot was somehow satisfying, and the hot mist hitting his face helped his nerves.

When Clint finally joined Natasha he couldn’t help but to stare. She looked like she was in zombie mode still- still processing events and actions, going over every little detail. She accepted her bowl of noodles wordlessly, twirling her fork as she thought. Even in zombie mode, Natasha was graceful, not slurping the noodles like Clint would have, never dropping food onto her shirt. But her eyes were dark and Clint wondered when she had slept last. She glanced in his direction and Clint took the hint from the slightly narrowed eyes, casting his gaze to the window.

“Can we talk tomorrow?” Natasha asked softly. “I just- want to eat and sleep.”

Clint reached over and placed his hand on the back of her neck lightly and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was perfectly fine not talking anymore than needed for the rest of the morning- he didn’t particularly want to vocalize what happened on his end either. His fingers weaved through her hair, tugging at it gently before he rubbed her scalp.

There was a time when this kind of interaction would have earned him a private audience with the floor; a few of those times came with a punch, sometimes blocked. Things with Natasha were tense for the first year almost as the two tried to learn how the other acted, what they needed. Now they were STRIKE Team Delta, Avengers, and inseparable for the most part. They grounded each other perfect, melting in the other's presence, trusting each other fully.

“Can I borrow pajamas?” Natasha asked, pulling Clint from his thoughts. 

“Yeah, head up. I’ll be there in a few,” Clint muttered, rubbing his face. “Just need to wash my face.”

Natasha left him, setting her empty bowl on the table in front of him. Clint watched her go and was relieved that she didn’t have a limp, and that she held her shoulders the same. He couldn’t see any lasting damage from whatever fight she got herself into. 

Clint got up slowly from the couch, his side arching where the stitches were. He washed his face and looked in the mirror. He supposed that he didn’t look any more worse for wear than Natasha did- they both looked utterly exhausted and in need of a twenty-four hour nap marathon. He left his hearing aids in the bathroom in a case before flickering the light off.

Natasha looked over from the bed, wearing his largest shirt and completely drowned herself in it. She gave him a light smile and reached up to touch her ears. Clint shrugged his shoulders and crawled into the bed, pulling at her to drop her down close. Natasha smacked his hand playfully but tucked herself as close as she could against him, facing away. Clint trailed his hand down her arm lightly before he planted a kiss to the back of her neck.

They didn’t really need words, afterall; they knew each other for so long that all they really needed was their presence for everything to feel okay again.

\----

Clint woke up four hours later, cursing the sun for finding its way into his bedroom. Clint noticed the lack of a body against his own, his arm hanging limp to his side. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. He stretched in the bed and tried to make the most obnoxious yawning noises he could.

Natasha was standing by the window, a mug in her hand. She turned around and gave him a dirty look before she sighed. _Couldn’t sleep- you kept moving._ Clint signed back he was sorry and he knew it had to be the nightmares again. _I had dreams too._

Clint got up and made his way over, dragging his feet before he snatched the mug from her hands and took a sip. With every fiber in his being, he forced the bitter liquid down before he stuck his tongue out and wrinkled his nose up. The smirk on Natasha’s face wasn’t acceptable this early into the day. The way the light was making her red hair appear like flames weren’t acceptable either, or the way it tended to make her features just a hair softer. She always looked perfect, which wasn’t fair at all.

Clint waved his hand dismissively at her, nearly shoving the tea back into her hands before heading down to his kitchen to make coffee. Clint was not a morning person, everyone knew that, and he wouldn’t be fully helpful until he at the very least had three cups of coffee in him. Clint waited impatiently at the counter, ignoring his bladder as he took in the scent of his brew. He leaned against the counter and contemplated being civil; Natasha would look down on it if he just walked around carrying the coffee pot, and surely she would comment on it. But a mug just seemed so- well, it didn’t seem big enough.

When Clint finally settled for a mug; he poured his first cup and tried to not drink it all in one go. Clint savored the taste before pouring himself a second mug. He used the bathroom quickly and tried to brush down his hair before he went back for the kitchen. He ignored Natasha waving him over and held up a hand. One more cup. Just one more cup and he could feel sane.

His wrist vibrated and he turned to look at his watch’s screen. It was a call from Steve- Captain America. Clint groaned and rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. Certainly if the world was ending, it could end without him today. Or Nat would chime in about aliens or Asgardians or whatever it was that Steve was calling about. Clint ignored it and padded out to the living room, cradling his third mug of coffee like it was a precious child.

_Steve is calling,_ Natasha signed from the couch. 

“Is it unamerican to leave him to go to voicemail?” Clint mumbled into his mug. “Or can we get charged with a crime against humanity that we are likely breaking Captain America’s heart right now?”

Natasha grinned and shrugged her shoulders, looking at her phone. Clint set his mug down before he full on sprawled across Natasha, his face buried in her lap. Natasha drew circles into his back before her hands traveled higher, lightly scratching his head. Clint’s eyes fluttered closed and he knew he could fall asleep if she just kept-

“Fucking Steve,” Clint groaned when his wrist started vibrating again. He turned and looked up at Natasha’s face. “How do we play this?” he asked.

_Just ignore it- he knows you sleep until ten,_ Natasha suggested.

“You don’t,” Clint pointed out.

_Post mission I do._

She had a point- Natasha normally slept like the dead after missions. This morning had been an exception. Clint could still see how tired she was. He reached up and cupped her face lightly. She was worried about him, but he should be more worried about her. At least he got a solid three.

_You need to sleep. Trade spots and-_ “Damn it Steve!” Clint growled, getting up and grabbing his mission aids, shoving them into his ears. He found his phone and answered it. “Barton residence, angry and blond here,” Clint answered before he sat down, pulling at Natasha so she would lay down. Natasha, however, kept swatting him away and tugging at him instead. Great- battle of the wills and Natasha nearly always won this game.

“Why do you sound so out of breath?” Steve asked after a minute.

“Hot and steamy sex,” Clint lied. Natasha’s jaw dropped before she swatted his arm. “Getting kinky- Nat likes to-”

“Barton,” Steve warned.

“Hey, you asked,” Clint answered. “Nat and I are just disagreeing on who should sleep. She’s had maybe an hour if she is lucky, I have had maybe four or five all together.”

“You two are impossible,” Steve sighed.

Clint finally got a good grip on Natasha and pulled her straight against his body. Natasha’s eyes narrowed for a moment before Clint let go, his hand making its way to her thigh, applying just enough pressure as he trailed his fingers up her back, finding a knot near her neck and trying to work it out. For anyone else, being so close to her neck might have been a risky at best, for Clint is was a normal everyday thing. Natasha caved for a change and laid against him, letting Clint spoil her for the moment.

“I won,” Clint taunted. “So whats urgent this early in the morning, Cap? Tony trying to create a robot army again? Bruce make a deadly virus that attacks only the people voted Hottest Men Alive?” Natasha turned her face and concealed her laugh into his lap as she sank lower to lay down. “Or… oh God. Could it be? Thor… Thor decided to pose naked for Asgardians Boys.” Clint was pretty sure Natasha bit him and he squirmed a little, trying not to laugh.

“Very funny, Hawkeye,” Steve chided. “Perhaps it was something you did.”

“I am a saint,” Clint lied.

Steve was quiet for a moment and Clint was trying to decide the level of angry he made Steve. “We have a meeting in six hours- mandatory. Coulson will be there. Do not be late. Its in the tower’s meeting-”

“We will be there,” Clint said. “Six hours.”

Steve muttered something that Clint didn’t catch before the line cut. Clint was too busy trying to analyze Steve’s voice. He didn’t sound miffed like when Clint was teasing him, that had disappeared. What was left was something more- nerve wracking. He sounded anxious in a way that Clint had only heard a handful of times since knowing the man. Once was post mission and Clint had gotten himself fairly well hurt, another was when traveling to a very large, extremely dangerous HYDRA base- and that made Clint feel rattled.

“Five hours, Nat, then we gotta go,” Clint said after tossing his phone.

Natasha gave him a muffled response and Clint smiled down at her while his fingers went to her hair, scratching at her scalp lightly and twirling it. It didn’t take much to put Natasha to sleep, she was out of five minutes after the call had ended. Clint grabbed the television remote and settled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Bucky this time but I promise he will be around starting next chapter! Clint and Nat's friendship is important to me and they deserve a solo chapter.


	3. Holy Barnes! And family fight night.

“You sure we can’t turn this thing around and just go back to my apartment?” Clint asked as he got off of Natasha’s bike, tucking the helmet under his arm. “Maybe JARVIS won’t rat us out at all- we overslept. That’s buyable, right?”

Natasha settled her helmet on the seat and fluffed out her hair. “You want to risk Steve sending Tony to scoop you up in the most embarrassing fashion dressed as Iron Man in public?” She tugged down the zipper to her jacket past her neck and down to her chest. “New at ten tonight, Tony Stark, Iron Man, swooped into a rundown apartment in Bed-stuy to bridal carry fellow Avenger Hawkeye to Avengers Tower,” she reported as she mocked a TV personality’s voice.

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds like a stupid plan,” Clint grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Clint watched Natasha as she pulled her hair up carefully. Natasha slept through the five hours like a champ, and she only shoved Clint twice when he tried to wake her up. But the dark bags under her eyes were gone now and she had a fresh shower under her belt.

“I’m sure it’s just plans for the next HYDRA base take down,” Natasha pointed out as she headed inside. Clint followed her, taking to spinning the helmet between his hands. “If it’s overseas, you know how Steve gets. A bit of flashbacks from the war time and all.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Clint agreed half-heartedly.

Both of them stopped when there floor seemed to vibrate. Natasha looked down before her eyes locked with his own. Earthquakes were rare in Iowa and New York, and it was always a cool experience. But Clint knew there was a different possibility, which unsettled him a little more.

“Hey JARVIS, what the hell?” Clint asked.

“Mr. Banner is downstairs in the designated room set aside for his private use,” JARVIS replied.

“Bruce went Hulk?” Clint asked Natasha. “Okay, so this is _normal_ to you?” he pressed when Natasha shrugged. “I mean, sure, they guy can be unstable because of Hulkster play time, but he has relatively good control. It’s weird, Tasha.”

“Maybe someone played with his chemistry set,” Natasha replied innocently.

“Yeah, sure, or maybe he stepped on a lego Stark left out,” Clint offered as he walked into the elevator. “Going up for the meeting, J,” he said. Natasha fitted herself against him and Clint turned his head, breathing in her shampoo. “You know, if I ever decide to bring a woman home, she is going to get all shriek-y that another woman’s shampoo is in my house.”

“You cheating on me, Barton?” Natasha accused playfully.

“Pft, never.”

There was a time when that comment wouldn’t had been so funny as it was now. There was a brief, very brief, period of time where Clint and Natasha dated. Everyone thought it was happening anyway so they figured why not. It had started out as a prank and developed into something more. Clint was notorious for falling in love much too quickly and much too hard, and was terrible at relationships. If you needed a reference, you would be directed to Bobbi Morse, who would word things much more politely than Clint deserved if he were being honest. Thankfully, Natasha and him realized it early on and broke things up before it could ruin their friendship; but sometimes they would still play off the dating spin if it got them what they needed for a mission- they really had no shame.

When the doors to the elevator opened, Clint took a step forward before Natasha yanked him back, causing him to yelp. Clint turned his head to stare at her; her eyes were fixed on something past him and her body tense, ready to spring into action at any moment. They were in the tower, probably the safest place to be at the moment, and Natasha went full on momma bear mode. _What in the hell?_ Clint tried to take a step but her grip on the back of his shirt tightened.

Clint turned to look around the room. Stark looked like he was simultaneously pissed and amused, while Thor looked skeptical and unamused. Steve was standing off to one side, one arm stretched out in front of-

_Awww, Clint. What did you do?_ He thought to himself.

The man from the taxi ride was standing behind Steve, his brown hair tied back away from his face. He looked scowly still, though Clint could see signs of nervousness in his eyes. The fact that Steve looked like he was protecting him from whomever was an interesting take on events. His clothes looked like they were a size too big, maybe hand-me-downs from Steve himself. He looked so normal for a guy who was clearly the one causing whatever tension had filled the room.

“Natasha,” Steve greeted carefully. “I can explain.”

Natasha didn’t ease her grip on the back of Clint’s shirt as she angled herself in front of him slightly. “Oh, this will be a good story,” Natasha commented, her jaw tight.

“Nat,” Clint whispered gently. When she didn’t move he put a hand on her back. “Hey, can we may walk-”

“Not until he tells me what the Winter Soldier is doing in this room,” Natasha interrupted curtly.

Clint did a double take. He had heard stories of the man Natasha was referring to but he assumed it was a Russian myth and legend. The man behind Steve looked a bit scary, sure, but he didn’t look quite like an infamous assassin; his age didn’t seem to line up with the stories either. The man looked more conflicted when Natasha got the name out, shifted his weight and looked guilty. It wasn’t until then that Clint noticed the gloves were gone and he could make out a metallic hand. Okay- maybe he did look like the Winter Solider just a little, hand alone.

“Alright, so, where is Phil?” Clint asked, trying to break some of the tension.

“He is downstairs trying to calm Banner,” Stark said. “Seeing Steve's murder husband seemed to-”

“He is not my murder husband,” Steve said sternly.

“Right, alright, let’s just take a breath here,” Clint said, holding his hands up, desperate to diffuse the situation.

“Bucky- HYDRA had Bucky this whole time,” Steve said, his eyes on Natasha. “They found him and used him, created him to be an assassin. They- I don’t know, programmed him to comply. They did a lot to him,” he added softly, and Clint could tell how upset Steve was at the thought. It made Clint’s stomach churn a little at the thought as well.

“Sounds like normal HYDRA-” Clint tried to reason.

“Shut up, Barton,” Natasha snapped.

“I know you and Bucky have history, dating back to your time in the Red Room,” Steve added. “But this isn’t the same Bucky. This isn’t HYDRA Bucky. This is my best friend from before I was Captain America.”

Clint listened but he watched Bucky. He was schooling his face, something Clint was used to seeing Natasha do when things started to get too hard and personal. He squared himself up, ready for the backlash and it made Clint ache for him. Clint knew what it was like to not be trusted- he had his fair share of backlash when he was first recruited to SHIELD. And just like Steve, Phil was there to have his back, even Fury a few times. Even Natasha had to know what Bucky was going through- Clint had been there for her in the same exact way.

“He tried to kill you two years ago,” Natasha said evenly.

“Wait, what?” Clint asked, being pulled out from his thoughts.

Steve’s lips twitched in agitation before he looked at Clint. “Remember that mission you were on two years ago looking into an 0-8-4?” Clint nodded; as if he could forget that mission to Ireland, he still had a scar that ached sometimes on the back of his leg. The Guinness was amazing though. “And remember how we all were on a different mission? Well, we ran into the Winter Soldier then and-”

“And he nearly killed you,” Natasha finished for him.

“Rumor has it you nearly killed Barton when you first ran into him,” Steve retorted, which admittedly didn’t help the situation at all, even if it were true.

“Why is it that two members of the team like to bring home murder strays?” Tony asked, taking advantage of the new spin on the situation.

The room erupted in sheer chaos. Between Steve, Tony, and Natasha, Clint wasn’t sure which one was yelling the loudest at the point. Thor even said his peace in a strained tone, his eyes flickering to Bucky as well. Natasha had at least made her way off the elevator to argue, leaving Clint behind. Clint hadn’t seen Natasha so furious in years, especially at Steve who rarely incurred her wrath. Even if Banner was here, Clint wasn’t sure he would have attempted to talk over the other four Avengers, he hated this type of conflict just as much as Clint did. If this started before Clint and Nat arrived, it certainly explained Bruce Hulking out.

While the four argued, Bucky stood in the background and watched them. Clint could see the cracks in his facade and watched as the emotions started to leak out. He didn’t want this level of fighting and it made him uneasy, that Clint knew. Occasionally, Bucky would look Clint’s way before staring back at the group. Clint felt sorry for the man having to endure this conversation; it was too personal in a way, too critical for a man who had to feel vulnerable still.

Clint waited several minutes, standing by himself in the elevator and taking it all in. It wasn’t like Natasha didn’t have a point; even if Bucky Barnes was Steve’s best friend, the man was still dangerous. That brought the room to three assassins, one super-serum superhero, a literal god, and a cocky billionaire- there had to be a joke somewhere in this chaos. 

Clint’s headache started to return and he rubbed his face, turning off his hearing aids. If Natasha was actually paying any attention to him, she would have called him out on the behavior, but the only one who seemed to notice he was still present was the person everyone was arguing over. The silence helped, but watching everyone was still draining what little energy Clint possessed. Three cups of coffee weren’t enough- not today.

“Hey J, get me down to Banner,” Clint sighed.

The doors closed soon after and Clint could feel the negative energy leaving him. He slumped against the back wall of the elevator and closed his eyes as he reached up and turned his aids back on. Greeted by the white noise silence was still soothing to Clint. After a minute he sank down and sat on the ground of the elevator- it was going to take a few minutes anyway. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

Dealing with the Hulk had to be easier than dealing with the alternative.


	4. Chapter Four: Elevator Naps and angry little snaps

Clint felt someone kicking at his foot. He jerked awake and looked up to see his current viewing party consisting of Natasha, Tony, Thor, and Steve. Clint was silent, trying to judge their emotions. Tony looked the most amused, Nat looked exasperated, while Thor and Steve looked concerned. Clint slowly made his way to his feet and stretched.  
“Hey, guys,” he greeted as innocently as he could.

“You realize we had no idea where you were for a half hour, right?” Natasha asked, barely able to keep the bite out of her tone. “We thought maybe you went to the kitchen, then called down to Phil, who hadn’t seen you yet.” Clint managed to wedge his way out of the elevator so he could stop feeling like he was trapped prey. “We had to ask JARVIS where you were, which then- who the hell sleeps in an elevator?”

“What were you thinking?” Steve asked. “Are you okay? Should you be in medical still?”

“I was just going down to see Banner and I sat down because I knew it was going to take a few to get to him and I fell asleep. I don’t see the big deal here, I’m fine,” Clint sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to work out a knot. “Come on, no one quizzes Tony when he falls asleep drooling all over his desk littered with blueprints.”

“We were supposed to have a meeting,” Steve argued. “One you were supposed to be involved with.” He was using that voice- the ‘Steve is worried while ready to scold you’ voice; usually it made Clint feel reckless and like a disappointment.

Clint rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Oh, I was there for a good solid ten minutes of that argument. It wasn’t even a meeting, it was a shouting match to see who could get a word in edgewise over a guy none of us even know anymore, including you. Meanwhile, Tasha and I haven’t even had time to decompress from our SHIELD missions, getting minimal sleep. My side hurts like a bitch, my head feels like it could explode, and I can’t sleep without having to relive some of the absolute joy I got to experience with new agents. So overall, I am fairly positive I am one hundred percent not in the mood to deal with your BFF reincarnated who is going to be an absolute media disaster for us.”

“You can’t be one hundred percent fairly positive-” Tony started.

Clint half groaned half screamed into his hands as he rubbed his face. He walked over to the couch and flopped down before he hit something solid. He looked up and stared at the man in question, his eyes looked just as shocked as they had in the taxi. Clint sprinting off of his lap and backed up, suppressing a surprised scream. At least he smelled nice- and on the plus side, he didn’t flip out and punch Clint. That, however, made Clint feel even worse for Bucky’s situation.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Clint told Steve. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stand there and listen to my family fighting over this guy. I’m sorry I slept in the elevator. You knew we had just came back. This could have waited a day including you knew he was around for how long now?” Steve was silent on the manner, his lips pressing down into a thin line as his eyebrows furrowed. “Exactly. For him to even be here you would have talked to Fury first, Barnes would have stayed in SHIELD custody for a bit, evaluated through the safety protocols, and only released to your custody when Fury determined the guy was stable enough to leave the premise.”

Clint headed back for the elevator. He couldn’t take it anymore- he needed out. He shouldered his way past Thor and Tony, flinching away when Thor’s hand touched his shoulder.

“Clint,” Natasha said.

“Nope, today sucks. I am going back to bed, but here this time because I wasn’t the one who drove,” Clint argued tiredly, waving a hand their way. “Come up with whatever plan, fill me in, and I’ll go with it. I have no opinion on the matter, not one that matters anyway. J- help a guy out, take me to my floor.”

As soon as the doors were closed Clint felt the guilt start eating him from the inside. They were just worried about him- about why he was asleep in an elevator of all places. They just wanted to solve what to do with Barnes being back in Steve’s life, which was in fact a huge situation. He shouldn’t have raised his voice, gotten upset, but he didn’t want to feel involved. Last time he was involved in a man’s life, he ended up having to take down the threat. It wasn’t supposed to end that way- the man was supposed to be brought in and evaluated just like Barnes.

“Hey J- set up my level two security protocol,” Clint said as the elevator started to slow to his floor. “No one in or out for the next five hours unless it is Phil or Fury.”

“I will let the team know, Mister Barton,” JARVIS replied.

Clint dragged himself out of the elevator when it got to his floor and contemplated his options. He could make coffee- coffee was always good. He could sleep, even though he was pretty sure his brain was working overtime on how much of an ass he had been just a few short minutes ago to his friends. He considered putting on reruns of Dog Cops and turning his hearing aids off, letting his mind wander as he stared blankly at the television. He knew what he should do was head back downstairs and apologize for his outburst, but he didn’t like the dramatics of it.

So Clint settled for a quick shower, finding the loosest clothing he could, and lay down on the couch, hearing aids out and television onto Dog Cops. He tugged the thick blanket off from the back of the couch and loudly asked JARVIS to turn the temperature down. Cold air plus a warm blanket sounded like the perfect sleeping situation.

At first, Clint couldn’t stop thinking about the past seventy-two hours and all the mistakes he had made. How he should have acted more as a leader instead of just being a supporting agent- he was told to be a backup in case things went south and to let Agent Screaming lead the show after all. He thought about his decision to take out the threat- take down a man who was just scared and fighting with everything he had in him. He thought about how he should have never answered Steve’s call in the first place- should have taken his watch off and slept in that rundown apartment with Natasha, both of them comfortable. Then again- Tony and Steve both knew where his apartment was so he supposed that was a wash in the end.

Then his mind drifted to the man of the hour just a few floors below him. If everything was true, the little snippets Clint managed to catch, Bucky Barnes was a dangerous problem to have. Clint was sure Fury would have cleared him to be around the Avengers, to be away from SHIELD custody, but that didn’t mean everyone was safe. The thought of having another skilled assassin in the build started to put Clint on edge. One part of him tried to rationalize that Steve would never knowingly put his friends in danger, not if he could help it. But Bucky and Steve had been apart so long that- what if the man had changed? What if Bucky was still, for all purposely, being used by HYDRA and this was a plot.

But then Clint remembered how Bucky appeared. He appeared nervous, weak and scared of what was happening around him. The man looked like a puppy that had been told it did something bad and just wanted to do something right again. That was something Clint could sympathize with. All his friends trusted him the moment he had slipped Loki’s mind control game, no questions asked. But that didn’t mean everyone at SHIELD forgave him as easily, that others weren’t talking behind his back, wondering what the full story was. If they looked at the scar between his collarbone and shoulder, they could see the scratch left over from when the staff had touched him, burning through his shirt and leaving a weird scar pattern. 

Clint knew how Bucky was feeling- about wanting to just have someone. He curled up a bit more, hugged his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. Even knowing what he did, Clint still referred to Bucky coldly when arguing with Steve. Clint wanted to cut Bucky some slack- but then the whole assassin thing came back to his mind and ruined any thought of trusting him too easily.

Clint got up and went through his flat. He stashed a few weapons strategically near him, and near the door, all hidden the best he could, in case of an emergency. He fought the urge to sleep with his boots on, but he did keep his best gripped slippers next to the couch at the moment. He picked up one of the three bows Tony had made him and settled that along with some trick arrows on the floor next to the couch.

Clint laid back down and sprawled out, stretching his legs carefully. He knew if he asked, Tony would have JARVIS have one of the robots deliver up some pain and sleep management meds, but that seemed too risky until he knew the man upstairs better. So Clint stayed stuck in limbo- too tired to think too hard, too awake to fall asleep easily.

As he drifted off, his thoughts turned more peaceful. He thought about the surprised look on Bucky’s face the two times he hand ran into the man. There was nothing angry there, though there definitely should have been; there may have been a little apprehension, but he looked so soft. His hair looked so soft. And Clint be damned if Bucky didn’t have the longest eyelashes he had ever seen on a man. He thought about the museum he went to just to make fun of Steve about- seeing the photos of Bucky dressed to the tens, wearing either his Sunday best, or his military uniform. Every picture, the man stood with a level of cocky confidence that likely made him quite the ladies man back in the day. And if he smelled even half as good back then as he did today-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I admit- I suck at chapter names lol Sometimes something comes to me and I love it. Other times I give up and decide something is better than nothing. 
> 
> Anyway! Happy October everyone! I love all things Halloween and spooky and fall! Boots and scarves season! In case I forget to say it later, have a happy and safe month! Pick all the pumpkins, be basic af and drink that PSL, and crunch some leaves! Do a haunted house (or three), and take a stroll in a corn maze. Watch all the Hocus Pocus and Nightmare before Christmas. Make me proud!


	5. Awww, not Frozen!

Clint woke up several hours later and he stared up at the ceiling in surprise. There were no nightmares- and his headache was blissfully gone. Things seemed- good. Too good. He sat up slowly, expecting the worse; but even his stitches weren’t bothering him at the moment. Whatever god was smiling down on him, Clint was eternally grateful.

He paced around the kitchen as his coffee brewed, grabbing two protein bars and setting them on a napkin. He didn’t really have a plan for what to do next- he just knew he had some obligations that were mostly self-imposed. So he filled up the biggest mug he could find- make that two- shoved the protein bars into his pockets and walked into the elevator.

“Hey J, let Steve know I am coming to visit,” Clint told the AI system.

JARVIS didn’t even bother to respond, the elevator moving. Clint took a sip from one of the mugs as he waited, humming cheerfully. Maybe if this stop went well, he would head down to the range and shoot a few arrows without anyone finding out; though it was more likely he would go to Nat’s floor to gossip. She had seemed so angry about Bucky’s arrival that there had to be a good story or two in there.

The door opened and Clint stepped forward before he paused. Steve was in his doorway, leaning casually with his arms crossed. He surprisingly looked amused, and Clint felt his nose crickle a little.

“Why do you look so happy?” Clint asked as he walked past Steve, avoiding making physical contact.

“No reason- just in a decent mood,” Steve replied, closing the door after them. “So… formal introduction. Buck- this is Clint Barton- Hawkeye.”

Bucky stood up from his spot on the couch and walked over. “Nice to officially meet you,” Bucky said with a smirk. 

“Hey, yeah, same,” Clint said, trying to push his embarrassment aside. “Hey Steve- sorry about early, man. I was a bit out of line.”

“Not enough coffee?” Steve guessed. “Bucky was just telling me a funny story.”

Clint looked back to Bucky and immediately felt himself becoming self-conscious. The brunet didn’t have to be smiling like that, his hands shoved in his pockets. Clint’s shoulders pulled up towards his ears and he held his hands up in surrender, barely able to keep his coffee from spilling.

“Listen, it was all a-”

“Clint-”

“I mean, I had just gotten back from-”

“Clint-”

“-and I mean, maybe I did have a few too-”

“Barton.” Clint stopped talking and looked at Bucky, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from explaining. “I was just telling Steve about my trip from SHIELD- and the amount of people trying to ride share, which is apparently a thing now. And laughing because seriously- SHIELD thought using an undercover taxi would be a great idea.”

Clint felt himself let go of the breath he had been holding, relaxing. Apparently Bucky wasn’t going to out him for the previous night’s run-in. Clint liked the man even better now. He grinned. “I tell you- idiots, the lot of them,” Clint teased. He raised his mug up and Bucky nodded. “Anyway- surely in the- what? Four hours I’ve been sleeping, someone smart came up with a smart plan. Please don’t tell me it was Tony- his plans are the worst.”

“Not to be that person, Clint, but normally your plans are the worst,” Steve mused, raising his eyebrows. “And no- Coulson helped develop the plan.” Clint walked around the couch and sat down, setting his mugs down and pulling out his protein bars.

Bucky looked applaud. When Clint caught his face, Clint’s eyes widened innocently. “What?”

“What- are you eating?”

Clint looked down at his protein bars and back up. Steve was trying to contain his laughter. “Clint does this wonderful thing where he doesn’t like to eat like a normal person. So you will either see him eating pizza, a burger occasionally, or protein bars. His diet mostly consists of abnormal amounts of coffee too- the stronger the better. Black. Seriously Buck, the guy would drink the sludgy shit we had back in the war.” If Clint could describe the look on Bucky’s face that moment, it would be a mixture of sheer horror and disgust.

Clint’s jaw dropped and he waved the protein bar in Steve’s direction. “I will have you know that these are the perfect healthy- I made Bruce check.” Clint took a bite and leaned back. “Anyway- coffee is coffee. As you said- the stronger the better. Sludge coffee- sounds like pudding. Sounds delicious.”

“I think he might actually make me sick to my stomach,” Bucky commented, but Clint couldn’t tell (and really didn’t care) if he was being serious or not. “Pudding implies a spoon.”

“A spoon of caffeinated delight,” Clint winked, taking off a bite of his protein bar. “Want some?” he offered, waving it to Bucky now.

“We, erm, ate,” Bucky said slowly. “We were just about to watch a movie actually.”

“Oh? What is it? Steve is fond of those artsy things- which is shocking since he doesn’t really like forgien films because, y’know, ‘merica,” Clint teased, picking up mug number one to take a drink.

“Bucky wanted to watch Frozen.”

Clint spit his coffee out. He didn’t mean to, he tried desperately not to even, but as soon as the words came out, there was no keeping it in. He choked as he got up, heading to the kitchen for napkins to clean up the mess. Meanwhile, Bucky was doubled over, laughing too hard at Clint’s misery.

“What in the hell, Barton?” Steve asked, disgusted. “What’s so funny, Buck?”

Steve’s confusion didn’t help the matter at all. Clint shot a glare at Bucky before he tried to keep from smiling. Bucky’s arms were around his midsection, holding himself in and trying to catch his breath. The way his nose wrinkled from laughter, the crinkles around his eye- okay, Clint loved and hated him all at the same time.

Clint cleaned up his mess and finished off mug number one. Steve had insisted Clint stay for the movie, though he was positive it was solely so that Steve could further evaluate the situation. Clint finished off both of his protein bars and avoided looking in Bucky’s general direction; he knew that if he looked over during the movie, Bucky would be struggling to conceal his amusement.

Clint watched the movie patiently, biting the inside of his mouth. Clint didn’t feel like sitting through the animated musical, he just wanted to talk strategy. Bucky had distracted them from the conversation and Clint was itching for details. But Steve looked content and Bucky looked enthralled, and how in the hell was Clint going to ruin that moment? So he waited it out- it was a kid’s movie, it couldn’t be that long.

“Huh,” Bucky said at the end of the movie. Clint snapped back to attention and looked his way. “I dunno- I guess I kinda am Elsa.” Clint’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling and Steve had pretty much the same reaction. “Someone in the taxi called me Elsa,” he explained vaguely as he stood. He stretched, the bottom of his shirt tugging up and exposing a bit of flesh and abs. “I’m going to bed- have fun talking about me.”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed.

“What? He wants filled in, that’s what he came down here for,” Bucky said, pointing to Clint. “He indulged in watching a movie, a kid’s movie at that. He apologized for falling asleep in an elevator, which we slept in a few trenches so whats the difference besides temperature control and lacking the elements? And I am beat.”

Clint’s lips tugged up to a weak smile. “No offense, man. Just need the deets.” He gave Bucky the two-finger salute and watched as he walked down the hall. “Well, for being a murder stray… I like him. Can we keep him?” he asked Steve in an even tone.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face, leaning forward. With Bucky out of the picture at the moment, Clint knew Steve would drop the act. He looked tired. “What else am I going to do, Clint?” he asked softly. “Bucky was- he is my best friend. Losing him was the worst day of my life, and getting him back my best. I have to at least try for him- for us.”

Clint reached over and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Yeah, I know,” he replied. He shoved him a little. “What’s the thing you used to say? Till the end of the line or whatever?” he asked. “I’m here for you, Steve. Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Steve agreed.

“So- whats the plan?” Clint asked. “And does Nat agree with it.”

Steve’s lips turned thin before he sighed. “Natasha is still trying to work this all out in her head,” he answered. “They have a past- Bucky only knows a little, Natasha won’t say anything about it. I was hoping-”

“You know, we don’t share all of our secrets, right?” Clint asked. “We know most things, but the Red Room is off limits question wise- I know what I’m allowed to know and that’s it. Just like I don’t tell her about my time before SHIELD.”

That didn’t seem to calm Steve at all, not that it was meant to. But Clint wasn’t going to push Natasha just for Steve; he had his own relationships with the team he had to balance, but Natasha came first and always would.

“The plan is to have a press release in a week,” Steve said. “Give up details, that we know who the Winter Soldier is, that he was used by HYDRA and everything. Nothing about his whereabouts. We are go in a week.”


	6. We'll be alright

It was well past eleven by the time Clint left Steve’s floor. He still felt too awake to sleep again, but too tired to go shooting. He entered the elevator and stood there for a moment, trying to decide his next move, giving his request to JARVIS.

Clint got off on the floor that laid just below his and hesitated before he slipped out of the elevator and touched the door. So far it didn’t seem like Natasha had any security protocols up- JARVIS would have told him if she wasn’t taking visitors. He thought briefly about knocking before he opened her door and peeked inside.

Natasha was seated at her table and looked up from her bowl of cereal, watching him warily. Clint gave her an awkward smile before he shimmied his way in, closing the door after him. He found himself unable to say anything, rubbing his hands on his pants to get rid of the nervous energy. If Natasha would just quit staring like that, maybe he could speak up. 

“Debrief?” Natasha asked, looking back down at her bowl and shoving a mouthful of cereal in.

Clint took three steps over to the table before he leaned forward, putting his arms out on it to support some of his weight. He considered her question before he slipped into a chair and laid his head down. “Naw- over it,” he answered.

“Really? Over it?” Natasha asked skeptically. “You didn’t sound over it when you stormed out like a child earlier.”

“I’d give you an excuse but I’m not feeling like lying currently, so pass,” Clint muttered. “You wanna talk about your mission? I’m all ears.”

Natasha shook her head before she shoved another bite of food in. Normally they would both divulge every detail to each other, as long as Fury didn’t classify it otherwise. But Clint felt like too much time had passed, at least for him, to keep moping about it. He suspected that Natasha still had her guards up.

Clint smiled a little and reached across the table, brushing a hand against hers. “By the way, we really need to talk about your momma bear skills,” he teased. “I am an assassin, damn it. I don’t need you being a human shield. The guys are going to tease again.”

Natasha had a mischievous glint in her eyes and it made Clint feel more at ease instantly. “Well, if you weren’t constantly doing dumb shit that requires my backup, maybe I would trust you to handle yourself. Like walking into a room with a different, unknown assassin.”

“To be fair, I had met-” Clint said before he shut up.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “You are going to finish that or I will torture it out of you.”

Clint cursed himself and his inability to think before speaking. He knew Natasha would weasel it out of him sooner rather than later- he was terrible at keeping secrets from her. Sometimes he wished she was better at not keeping secrets from him, just to even it up a little.

“The night I got back from my mission, I went to the bar down the way.”

“You slept with him.”

Clint’s eyes widened and he sat straight up, his hand pulling away from her. “What? No! What the fuck, Nat?”

“We both know you are an idiot around pretty people,” Natasha answered nonchalantly. “And I have seen you flirt with much, much worse.”

Clint just stared at her, trying to let that process. “Okay, putting aside the fact you think Barnes is attractive, or that I would find him attractive, no. Nope. Didn’t sleep with him. Shut up.” Natasha just played with her cereal, watching it. “No- when I left the bar, I got into this taxi and- there he was.”

“You’re lying,” she accused.

“Apparently SHIELD thought an undercover taxi would be easier than an unmarked car,” Clint shrugged. “Insane, I know. Anyway- got into the car and there he was. So I had met him before. And he didn’t even threaten to kill me.”

Natasha looked up. “Clint, you worry me.”

Clint shrugged. “The guy doesn’t seem bad, Nat. I was just up there and-”

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked. “You went to see the Winter Soldier after nap time before you came to see me?”

Clint rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “You said it yourself, I left that meeting like I was a pissed off toddler. I knew you’d forgive me by the time you were tired. We do have this thing where we sleep together, especially when we are both at the Tower, in case you’ve forgotton. But Steve- Steve could have dragged me out of bed and given me the talk. I needed to kill that before it got to that level.”

“Fair.”

Natasha finished her cereal and went to the kitchen to rinse her bowl. “I still don’t like him being here. What if this is an elaborate plot of HYDRA?” she asked. “We let him walk in, Steve acting like they have been friends this whole time. Tired you doesn’t lie, Clint- no one knows this Bucky, not even Steve.”

Clint got up and walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Slow down, Nat,” he said calmly. “We don’t know him, no. But do you think Fury and Coulson would have flubbed his exam? They wouldn’t have risked it. I’m not saying we need to all make friendship bracelets with the guy- but we owe him a shot. I was given a second chance after my past, you were given yours- the guy was used by HYDRA for years, he probably hates them more than the two of us combined.”

“Doesn’t make me feel better, Clint,” Natasha insisted.

Clint nodded and dropped his arms, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Look- the way I view it is that we currently have three assassins in one building. Two against one. And when is the last time that we teamed up and lost?” he asked. “In the end, it’s us, Nat. We’ll make anything work.”

Natasha smiled and shoved him. “You being sappy or serious?” she asked. “And if one of us is sent on a mission?”

“Then the backup plan is my Bed-Stuy apartment,” Clint shrugged. “Bedroom is the safest place, you know where the non-perishables are stored in there in case of emergencies. One of us is called out, we retreat there.”

“You better not leave me in the next week,” Natasha muttered, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hall. “Come on, scary assassin that doesn’t need a human shield. I am tired and ready for bed.”

“Anything you say, momma bear,” Clint teased back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very boring Saturday and decided to crank out some stuff. I swear the fun dramatic stuff is coming! Just gotta get through the boring build up stuff first.  
Thanks for sticking with me!


	7. Just... the two of us?

Clint was late, which really wasn’t a surprise. It was two days until the press release and Clint had to go out for an emergency mission. It wasn’t a hard one, he even came back without getting himself hurt for a change. But Steve had purposely scheduled a meeting with everyone set for an hour ago to go over final details, and where people will be stationed in case anything went wrong. A walk through. And now Clint was late to it thanks to Fury not listening to his formal and informal protests and Clint was certain Steve was going to give him the look, maybe even the speech as if this disaster was his fault.

To save time, Clint started stripping in the elevator. He knew everyone was at the meeting anyway, so he didn’t run the risk of running into anyone on his way to his room. And it wasn’t the first time Clint had done this, though he normally only stripped when he thought everyone would be sleeping or at least otherwise engaged. He crumpled his shirt and his pants up under his arm and hauled his bag over his shoulder.

He only needed ten minutes. Quick shower, new clothes, and he was good to go learn what his role was going to be. If Clint was a betting man, which he was when the timing was right, he would guess a sniper position. It would keep him out of the public eye, keeping his identity still a mystery for the most part, while allowing him to do what he does best- shoot things from a distance. The prospect of being able to take on that role was exciting really; his last few missions weren’t like that at all.

The door opened up and Clint froze in place before he let out a mini-shriek, racing to hold his clothing over his boxers. Bucky turned around and Clint was pretty sure the other man was biting back a laugh. Clint willed himself to move, to say something clever, but his tongue wasn’t cooperating. This was just his life now- one embarrassing moment after another, sprinkles of missions and failures to add a little spice.

“So- is this just as normal as you throwing yourself onto others?” Bucky asked, his voice straining from trying to control either annoyance or laughter.

Clint groaned, stepping out from the elevator and brushing past Bucky. “What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to turn the attention off of him. Clint was acutely away that he was being watched. 

“Steve got pulled into some meeting, along with Tony and Natasha, so the general meeting for today got cancelled. He told me to come hang out with you. Guess he didn’t remember you were out.”

Clint opened his door and slung his bag over a set of hooks. He tossed his clothes to the dirty pile he had started; thus far Bucky didn’t seem offended, so he figured he was fine. When he glanced back, Bucky was still standing outside his floor. Clint rose an eyebrow but Bucky didn’t take the hint.

“Man, come on, get in here and close the door. And if you tell anyone about this- they will probably believe you and I can’t even think up a lie right now,” Clint said. “I do have to shower though- kind of a habit and I don’t feel relaxed until I get mission grime off.”

“Mission grime?” Bucky asked, stepping in and surveying before he closed the door. 

Clint felt unnerved by the scan of the apartment, but tried to tell himself it was normal. Which it was, Natasha did it every time they went somewhere new, even if it wasn’t a mission. But watching a man he had just met do it in his apartment made him acutely aware of where he had ever weapon hidden… just in case.

“Yeah, you know- that mental and physical grossness that you feel after a-” Clint began before he stopped. Bucky was staring, his face blank. “Oh… my… I am so- oh hell. I am really bad at this. Just hold on a sex- sec, hold on a second,” Clint rambled. He knew his face had to be beet red by now, he could feel the heat on the tips of his ears.

Bucky wrinkled up his nose and sniffed before he relaxed. “You really are bad at this,” he agreed. He didn’t particularly look amused anymore, which Clint couldn’t blame him for.

“You have no idea,” Clint groaned, rubbing his neck. “Just- give me some time here. Shower. Coffee. I should start coffee first. Do you like coffee?”

“After Steve explained your version of coffee… I may have to pass,” Bucky said carefully.

“That was one time!” Clint cried before heading to the kitchen. “And it was after Dublin, and I was stoned off my ass from pain meds. That shouldn’t even count.”

Bucky was silent and Clint started his coffee. What the hell was he thinking? The hell was Steve thinking? Clint was not made for this, he was not therapeutic; hell, half the time he questioned if he was functional. Clint waited until the machine started to brew his coffee before he walked into the living room.

Bucky was working the remote. Clint bit his lip as he watched the former assassin fumble his way through the television guide, his facial muscles twitching. It reminded him of Steve when he was first learning modern tech, and he hoped his television could survive a remote through the screen. He turned and marched to the bathroom, locking himself in.

Clint took his time in the shower, trying to feel human again and less like a disaster. He knew after he talked with Natasha that he should be coming up with a plan to bail. She was going to kill him for spending solo time with Bucky. But Steve asked for Bucky to hang with Clint, and he didn’t want to disappoint Captain America either. 

But what was he going to do with Bucky? He couldn’t take him to the shooting range- he wasn’t sure if he was cleared for it, or if he could trust Bucky around a gun. A walk was out of the question. He needed to do something to make the night better- it started out a bit rocky. All Clint wanted was his coffee, to take his aids out, and zone for a bit before sleeping.

Clint finally made his way out of the bathroom and making a run for it to his room, closing the door so he could change. He slipped a Black Widow shirt on and his Iron Man pants before he headed out for coffee. Bucky was watching something, Clint wasn’t exactly sure what it was, so he grabbed himself coffee.

“So- the hell is this?” Clint asked, sitting down.

“Dunno, something about-” Bucky began before he looked at Clint. “Are… you wearing Avengers merchandise?” he asked.

Clint shrugged his shoulders. “Supporting the team.”

“Do you wear your own merch?” Bucky asked, his lips twitching up to a smile. That was something at least- maybe a peace offering of sorts.

Clint smiled back proudly. “When I can find’em,” he answered. “Purple is kinda my color.”

Bucky nodded and looked back at the television. “Steve mentioned you sometimes get a bit scatterbrained after missions. Told him today probably wasn’t going to be any different but he was focused on whatever Fury sent. So… I get it if you want me out and-”

“What?” Clint asked. The change in topic made his head reel- where the hell did that come from? “Oh. No, Bucky, it’s alright. He isn’t wrong- I am be a dumpster fire of a human sometimes. And I am not functional until I get coffee in me. Only reason I’m not drinking straight from the pot is because I didn’t know if you wanted any.”

“You drink from the pot?” Bucky look astonished. “As in you-”

“Yep.” Clint could only grin as the horror on Bucky’s face got schooled back to something more neutral. “Alright, so. What are we doing?” Clint asked. Bucky frowned a little. “What? Are we really going to watch television?”

“What do you want to do? Sit and talk about feelings, because I’ve got Steve buggin’ me about that already,” Bucky replied flatly.

Clint stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Kill me first. I have two people for that, don’t need more.” Clint stood up and went to top off his mug. “I mean- do you want to watch television? Or there are video games. Or there is a gym, a swimming pool- uh, whatever the hell else. JARVIS can probably sort out other things.”

Bucky looked confused and surprised, leaning forward. “You want to take me to the gym or swimming pool?”

Clint’s eyes landed on Bucky’s metallic arm and he grimaced. “I am guessing swimming it out.”

Bucky snorted. “Unless that pool has a depth of over thirty feet, I think I can handle it.” He leaned back, tilting his head up. “Not scared that I am going to drown you? Or throw a dumbbell at your head?” His jawline looked too perfect at that angle and Clint bit back the urge to squirm.

“Scared? Naw. Slight concern, obviously,” Clint replied. “I mean, you are new around here, fresh out of HYDRA control, and a former assassin. Deadly combo, right?” he asked. Bucky was unreadable but Clint just crossed his arms, keeping himself relaxed. “But- I can think of worse things. And it’s not like I’m not a skilled... person.” He wasn’t exactly sure how much Steve or the others had told Bucky about himself, nor how much he should even disclose. “Not really feeling watching a movie tonight either, though it might loll me to sleep so- pros and cons?”

“Frozen out, then?” Bucky taunted.

“Fuck off, Elsa,” Clint laughed, downing the rest of his mug. “Though... thanks for not telling on me to Steve. I would get the speech about being more aware of my surroundings, how drinking so much is bad- blah, blah blah. And then he uses his Captain America voice.”

“I definitely know that voice,” Bucky muttered. “As if he hasn’t jumped out of planes and shit.”

“Right!?” Clint exclaimed. “He does something reckless and, y’know, ‘merica! I do something calculating but reckless, and I get a speech as they put my leg in a cast. Not all of us get to be super soldiers and hard to kill.”

Bucky blinked. “Dude… not a great comparison. Don’t die.”

Clint laughed and left temporarily to refill his mug.. “Haven’t yet- something is keeping me around,” Clint winked. “So, swimming then?” he asked. “Because I am about to drag my coffee pot down there if we do this. And better warn you, we go swimming I have to take my hearing aids out. Even this Stark junk seems to detest the water. I should probably get Stark to make me some better waterproofing on these things.”

Bucky went back to looking nervous. Clint waited quietly, sipping his coffee. “Might not be a good idea. What if something-”

“Then we deal with it then,” Clint answered before he could finish. “Look man, your life is full of choices now. You don’t want to leave this apartment? We don’t gotta. We can stay here and watch whatever you turned on the television, put a movie in, smash on pizza. We can go to the gym for a run. We can go swimming. Play games. Hell, I don’t care in the end. But you don’t have to be stuck being bored because it’s safe. Only thing off limits is the range and the sparring mats. I like you well enough, but I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I don’t own swimming attire,” Bucky pointed out, possibly as another excuse but Clint wasn’t sure.

“Best thing about being here alone with nobody bothering us? You can go in your boxers and I won’t tell,” Clint laughed. “You saw me in mine. Only fair.”

“You tryin’ to get me naked, Barton?”

The way he said it made Clint’s heart flutter, his chest feel warm. It was teasing but there was something behind it that Clint thought for sure he was reading wrong. But he had that charming smile back on his face and it made Clint want to melt. This is why Natasha went momma bear on him- Clint literally had no chill around attractive people who paid him any sort of attention.

“So… just the two of us?” Bucky asked, getting to his feet.

“Eh, three’s a crowd anyway.”


	8. Fall Out, and not the fun kind

_“I am thinking Froyo after this,” _Tony said over the comm system. _“What do you guys think? I’m not in a shawarma mood. Tacos? Not pizza, sorry Merida.”_

Clint tried to ignore him as he got into position. It was hot and he was in all black, dressed in all his tactical gear and regretting life choices. A roof at the tail end of a New York summer was dreadful at best. Why did it have to be so muggy? The only saving grace was that he got to play sniper for the day, and that at least made him feel in his element again.

_“How do you think we’ll be able to get Froyo after this? The media is going to be crawling to get air time with you two and any other Avenger they can get their hands on. Last time I checked- you cannot order Froyo for delivery.”_ Natasha- always having to be the voice of reason. And now Clint was craving froyo- awesome.

_“I am rich- I can pretty much get whatever I want delivered,” _Tony shot back. He wasn’t wrong, but the near smugness of it all made Clint wish he had packed a putty arrow to launch at Tony during the interview, just to see him shriek when his suit got ruined. It would definitely be worth it, even if it would be expensive.

“Hey, while you guys are all comfy cozy down on ground level, I am baking on a rooftop,” Clint scolded. “Cool it on the delicious froyo talk. As for dinner- I’m bailing and staying away tonight. Getting back into the Tower is going to be a nightmare and a half.”

_“Can we all focus, please?” _Leave it to Steve to be a buzz kill. Clint focused down his scope and scanned the crowd. _“Hawkeye- are you in position?”_

“Nope, figured I’d hide away on a roof across town.” Clint looked at the stage area. “Good to go when you all are.”

For all extensive purposes, the press release went about as Clint expected. He could hear the crowd reaction from his spot, but his comm was muted to the speech itself. He was positive he’d see it on repeat for the next week on all the media outlets anyway- no reason to start the insanity when he had to focus on the crowd. He had spotted Natasha a few times, checked around her in case anyone was trailing, then went back to scanning. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, which was both a blessing and boring. Clint checked the Tower, only catching a glimpse of Bucky once. The man was braver than Clint, there was no way Clint would be able to stand the thought of so much attention, especially negative, on him for this length of time; the guy’s mental wherewithal was admirable. He scanned up but there was no sightings of Thor and Clint wondered what godly duties the man was taking care of in Asgard, or Midgard, or whatever-gard he was slumming in.

The whole event lasted about an hour before Tony and Steve went back inside, back to safety. Clint packed up his things and changed quickly when he was concealed in the stairwell, switching his comm setting back on. He could use the elevator, but that wouldn’t give him something to whine to Natasha about later.

_“I think I crushed it,”_ was not want Clint wanted to hear; Tony and his damn humblebragging. _“So… tacos then? I mean, besides Clint and Nat. Do we even have things here to make tacos?”_ On second thought, Clint turned his comm back to normal hearing aid settings; he was not going to listen to Tony rambles on his trip home.

The best part of being Clint was that he blended in well- he was a tall blond with blue eyes, pretty nondescript so no one really recognized him or remembered him. It was a gift, really, and one Clint used to his full advantage. 

“Excuse me,” a woman asked, walking over with a mic and a cameraman. “We are hoping to interview-”

“No, thank you,” Clint said quickly. “Cameras aren’t really my thing.”

“A quick statement then- a poll. What are your feelings towards the whole press release?” the woman asked.

Clint shook his head, muttered an apology, and moved on. He didn’t trust that the cameraman wouldn’t hit record, and he didn’t want his voice played back on the air. This was New York- they could easily find someone else who had a big mouth and thought their opinion actually mattered. Clint just needed to focus on reaching his apartment before being cornered or worse- someone actually pulling a security threat and he’d have to get involved without his bow. Clint stuck to the backstreets, jumping over fences and walls, landing on dumpsters or whatever he could. 

He did get sidetracked briefly on his trip home; there was a frozen yogurt shop a few blocks down that Clint had to stop at and buy exactly what Tony would have gotten- and of course he took a photo of both the froyo and him eating it, shooting off in the group text. Despite the texts calling him an asshole, according to Steve, Tony went “nuts” and “on a rampage” because Clint was getting his favorite behind his back. This then prompted a video of Clint only taking two more bites and dumping the rest of it in the trash. While Tony was absolutely silent on the matter, Steve advised to never do that again to the team. God, Clint wished he was there to see the look on Tony’s face.

When Clint finally made it into his apartment he settled his bag into a safe before he turned the television on. The media was already going crazy- not a single station was airing anything else but the press release.

“How can they think the man isn’t a danger to society?” one reporter asked. _Flip._

“HYDRA has been a pain in our sides for too long, and this man aided in-” _Flip._

“It’s Captain America- when has he ever led us wrong? But perhaps-” Nope. _Flip._

Clint turned on Dog Cops and went to his kitchen. He scraped together some noodles, butter, and cheese, made the world’s most unsatisfying dish, and ate it in front of the television, his combat boots on the end table. He knew he should be watching the news, getting public opinions in order, but he was whipped. An hour and a half on a rooftop in the blazing sun, another hour to make it home- he just wanted to vegetate.

He shot off a quick text, letting the team know where he was before he took his hearing aids out. The silence was welcoming as he toed off his boots, digging his toes in more to wedge his socks off. He sunk down further into his couch as he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He earned this nap.

Clint waited for two days, but the press was still surrounding the Tower area, waiting for Steve or Tony to emerge. Natasha spent the night those nights, disappearing into the crowds to get more information from the general public during the daytime. All in all- it wasn’t looking good. Global leaders were even questioning the move, wondering what was appropriate to do with a former assassin, even if he had been HYDRA controlled. 

The public was largely split from what Clint could gather, the older generations wanting Bucky to be placed on trial, while the younger generation seemed to be more compassionate. He watched the news coverage from other parts of the country, protests either way being held. Most of them were peaceful, with minimal shouting between party lines. He only saw one that got so heated that the local police had to break it up.

“In a world where we are constantly under threat from human terrorists and extraterrestrial terrorists, it can sometimes be hard to decide what the greater of two evils are,” one reporter said. Boy, Clint wanted to meet the creative mind behind the upcoming speech. “As the country fights for what should be done with Steven Rogers childhood friend, James Barnes, we should be asking ourselves what we should focus on. Should we be more concerned with a man who had no control over his actions? Or should we be more concerned over large scale threats. If what Captain America said is true, the infamous Winter Soldier may be joining the Avengers in the fight against a common enemy- those who want to take away our freedoms. And that is if he can be found and properly vetted. So we leave you tonight with this-”

Well, that was news to him. Steve nor Natasha had bothered telling Clint that Barnes was joining the team- not that it should come as a surprise. But as a teammate, Clint at least thought he was entitled to a vote on that matter, and no one bothered to ask him. Clint was all for helping the guy out of a tough spot, but the thought of working alongside him without knowing just how vetted he was… it made Clint wary.

And the Avengers already got enough press attention as it was. They were constantly in the news for taking down aliens or the “bad guys”; Clint couldn’t count how many terrorist threats he managed to stopped before they could be escalated. Clint was already worried that his time being an undercover SHIELD agent was over; one false move and his identity would be out just like Steve and Tony’s. He would have to give up his Bed-Stuy apartment and move into the Tower on a permanent basis, and even with all the security protocols in place, it wasn’t private enough for Clint.

But even with all the positive press release they received, there were still times they even struggled to keep their heads above water. They got heat several times for the amount of structural damage that had been done in fights, even if they tried to move it away from the city. Tony’s behavior before becoming an Avenger still got brought up from time to time, even as the man was conducting a press release under Stark Industries. Bruce got heat for not being able to fully control The Hulk, which sometimes left him isolated and emotionless for days. Clint and Natasha both were only talked about for what their connections could be- at least they were both largely a mystery.

You add the Winter Soldier to this mix and there was more negative press for awhile; at least until he proved himself. It was a lot of tension, especially for a man who is still trying to figure out just who he was. One misstep and Bucky would be the center focus of all the negative press, and Clint wasn’t sure if the man was prepared for that kind of attention. Hell, it was a lot for Pepper to have to work with, and she had to help run Stark Industries as well.

Clint flipped the television off and got up, stretching. All he was doing was giving himself a headache with thinking too hard. In the end, the heat would land on Steve and Bucky if things went sour quick. Clint was only along for the ride, offering support however he could. While it made him nervous, he knew that at least he was surrounded by people who would be behind his back if he were ever in the same boat. For now, that would have to be enough.


	9. Okay... this looks bad.

By day four, Clint had to suit himself up in his tactical gear and a partial face mask that covered most of forehead to his nose. Damned aliens and picking bad times to invade New York- it was like they had no respect for the current situation Clint thought as he gathered as many arrows are he could into two quivers, grabbed two guns, and his bow. It was always something- never a full week of peace and quiet.

“Sup, Tin Can?” Clint asked as he reached the roof at a jogging pace.

“Did we wake you?” Tony asked. “You took forever.”

“Just get me to the action,” Clint grunted out as Tony grabbed the back of his suit and took off. Clint wasn’t fond of this method of transport, but it was the quickest and most effective so he tolerated it.

As soon as Clint was dropped off at his location, Tony took off. Clint knew Natasha was nearby if he needed anything anyway, and he didn’t mind working solo when they were all on their comm systems. Clint looked around to take in the situation and started working out points of weakness in his mind before he even shot a single arrow. He wasn’t up for wasting his supplies needlessly.

_“So about that froyo-”_

_“I just got alien juice on me- I am not having this discussion.” _Clint wrinkled his nose at the thought of “alien juice”, and could only imagine Natasha’s face when it had happened.

Clint wasn’t in the mood for talking- he was only in the mood for shooting. He had found a spot that had enough coverage where he wasn’t overly concerned about having to watch himself three-sixty and went to work. He set himself at a comfortable pace, his mind focused and calm despite the chaos around him. That was the best thing about repetitive motion- it really made things zenful.

He was pulled from his calm when he heard a scream and he looked down the street. _Ugh- reporters._ Clint raced down towards him, taking down two aliens before he body slammed into the third before he could rip into the man. He swung an arrow around and stabbed the alien through the neck with a grunt before he pulled back, shaking his arrow to get the “juice” Natasha politely mentioned before off, trying to hide his disgust.

“Maybe now would be a great time for you to head inside?” he suggested blandly.

“Hawkeye,” the man said. “Can I ask you-”

“Really, man? Right now?” Clint asked. The man opened his mouth and pointed and Clint only had to do a glance before he swung around and shot the sneaky bastard. Clint looked back at the reporter. “Get inside, stay away. Let us do our work. You are putting the both of us at risk by being a-”

Clint felt the searing pain as he was tackled to the ground. The reporter at least had the sense to run as Clint hissed. His head bounced off the ground and he only saw darkness for a moment before his vision started to slowly come back. Clint caught one arm as the claws were coming down, keeping it an inch from his face. _Damn does this thing stink_ he thought, angling his head away from teeth. He reached to his side and grabbed a gun and shot the alien before he kicked it off of him.

“Fucking. Ow.”

_“Legolas, you good?”_ he heard Tony ask.

Clint looked down and groaned. There was a large tear in his tactical gear and there was a bit of blood- probably a lot of blood but, well, Clint’s had worse. His side felt like it was on fire still and he settled his fingers over the wound. He wiggled his toes, satisfied that at least he didn’t injure his lower extremities on that takedown. 

“I-uh- no?” Clint answered as his vision began to get shaky again. Well, that couldn’t be good. “So- I got hit and the thing ripped into my side.”

_“What?!”_

Clint struggled to focus on the other voices coming through the comms all at once. He tried to pull himself to his feet but he felt like jello. Okay- this looks bad. He slid back against the wall and pulled himself up enough so he could shoot off some arrows. He noticed his vision rapidly getting worse, his aim failing. He slid back down the wall and grabbed his gun. Nope, this definitely wasn’t good news.

“I- think they may be poisonous or something,” Clint muttered. “I need- I need-”

His head was swimming and his mouth felt dry. Well, first time for everything, poisonous aliens, that was now a thing. Definitely not how he thought he would die, either. He would probably give this feeling a zero out of five stars on yelp.

_“Where is he?”_ was the last thing he remembered hearing and he swore it sounded like Bucky.

\-----

Clint thought he was awake, he could hear things around him but he couldn’t move. He tried to open his eyes but they were not cooperating with him. His throat felt itchy, dry and throbbing; he wondered if he was intubated at some point. But there was no way he should be hearing- maybe this was the beginning of death.

“So, I brought Lucky.” Awww, Katie-Kate. “But they won’t let me bring him on the med floor. I tried to sneak him in.” Of course she did- this is why he allowed the girl to share his title; not to mention Kate was the best, even if she was twelve. “And I came all this way from L.A., so you better stay alive and wake your ass up.”

“You know he can’t hear you, right?” Oh, Tony was there. At least he was fairly certain that was Tony talking, even though there was a clear lack of mocking and sciencey words. “Wait- did you put his hearing aids in?”

“Well yeah- I wanted him to hear me. Do I look stupid to you?” Kate asked, nearly snarling. God, he loved how sassy she was. Team Katie-kate.

Clint wanted to talk, to join in the conversation, but he couldn’t feel himself. It was an odd sensation- being there without actually being there. There had to be a term for this but Clint didn’t particularly know it. All he knew was that he could hear them, he couldn’t talk, and he felt like shit. Everything hurt, especially his chest and abs. He was tired but that wasn’t really a new development.

“Can you both maybe leave?” Natasha’s voice was so small that it hurt. Clint could hear the other two say something but he was fixed on the way Natasha sounded. It took a lot for Nat to sound small, vulnerable and weak, and Clint hated himself for getting injured.

The room was silent again. He felt his bed dip down, a warm hand over his own, and then hair and a hot breath. Something wet- _oh my god, I am making her cry._ Clint’s chest hurt more in that moment, and he struggled to get himself to talk, to do anything so she knew he was there, that he could hear her; but he was so tired.

“Please don’t leave me like this,” Natasha whispered. Her hand had moved from his own to his chest, every touch delicate like she was going to break him. “You have to keep fighting, Clint. Just a little while longer- they are so close. I know you- I know you can do it.” Her voice cracked and he felt more tears.

_Nat._ He tried his hardest, gave it his all, but the words wouldn’t form. His chest tightened and everything was back to feeling like it was electrocuting him. He couldn’t breathe. He could hear distant beeping, shouting, felt Natasha leave him. _Come back. Don’t go! Nat! I'm here! Please!_ He just wanted to breathe again. He was _dying_ and he didn’t want to die- he might have joked about it on occasion but he couldn’t die; not like this- not with Natasha so sad and scared. And he still had so much he had to teach Kate. He had to- he had to do some-

He felt something jolt him, his body tensing and every muscle straining unbearably but everything went dark again. He didn’t want to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Near death experiences... Clint is pro-level at them.


	10. Living ftw

_Awww, bright light, no._

Clint squinted his eyes and felt himself squirm to the best of his ability. There was something keeping him down, soft and- restraints. If he was dead and there were restains involved, someone was definitely kinky and he didn’t appreciate it at the moment. He took a few deep breaths and his eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening and he wanted desperately to hear- to know that he was alive, to know this wasn’t some ghost prank ghosts played on each other to haze the others into death.

Clint’s head was pounding, his chest hurt still, but he thought he was alive. He took a moment before he looked down, could see leads and tubes- see the restraints. It was enough to make him cry; he was alive- he had lived and he was going to make everything okay. He got braver and tried to turn his head, and even if it could only move a fraction, it was something.

“Tasha.”

The redhead was standing by the window, hugging herself and wearing his clothing. Of course she was- and the image of her turning around and instantly crying was forever going to be burned in his memory. She crossed the floor, lacking her normal grace and she nearly collapsed onto the seat next to his bed. She was a mess, crying and talking; her hands spreading across his chest.

“Can’t- hear you.”

Natasha sat up and wiped her eyes. _Five days. You left me for five days._ Her hands were shaking and Clint tried to move his arm, but the restraint kept him down. He looked down and back up. _You tried to detach stuff once- almost died because of it. Almost died three times. You asshole._ Clint couldn’t help but to crack a small smile- he always liked the sign for asshole; it was right up there with bullshit.

“Water?” he asked. Natasha nodded and moved. She gave him an apologetic look before she dipped a straw into the cup and only gave him a little bit at a time. He knew it was because he was a choke risk, but it didn’t really make him feel any better. “Aids?”

Natasha was so careful when she put his hearing aids in. He could feel her shaking still, her hands brushing against his cheeks. He gave her a more confident smile when his hearing aids kicking back into working, greeting him with the beeping of equipment. He tilted his head and she shook hers- there was no room for her as long as he stayed restrained.

“I need to go tell-”

“Just five more minutes,” Clint asked, closing his eyes.

“Clint!”

“Sh, stop,” Clint muttered. “Not going anywhere- just tired.” He opened them to look at her face, the worry leaving dark bags under her eyes, their glossy look. “Love you, Tasha.” He just needed a little more sleep.

\----

“Alright, so, poison?” Clint asked the next day. He felt like he had been run over by a bus, but he was awake, no longer tired and fighting sleep. “Or am I just a wimp?”

“Clint,” Natasha groaned, stacking pillows behind him to try to ease the pain that was growing. If he could just get up and move around a little, maybe he wouldn’t feel so sore and stiff.

“It was a toxin,” Bruce answered. “Something we had to make an antidote for, which took time. Your heart stopped three times. You are a lucky man, Barton.” Bruce signed some form and he started to remove the restraints. “I hope you know that I signed that saying you’ll stay put. No sneaking off the floor like normal- you need to be monitored for at least another day.”

“He isn’t going anywhere,” Natasha spoke up for him.

“Traitor,” Clint muttered. If Natasha wasn’t so stressed, her glare would have been funny; the joke only made him feel like an asshole. “Any permanent damage?”

“Not that we have found yet,” Bruce said. Clint pulled his arms up, they felt heavier than he remembered, and he rubbed his wrists. “We are going to do another few scans today to make sure. Heart, brain, bones- you name it. Tony is just setting up some final details.”

“And when can I eat real food again? I am starving,” Clint whined. Maybe it was just a little pathetic to whine, but Clint was going to milk it while he could.

“As in pizza? A few days,” Bruce said. “For now you get broth, then we will work our way up.”

“Congrats, Legolas,” Tony said as he waltzed in. “You get home cooked meals for the next week. All the healthy foods you never wanted in life. Make sure all the toxins are flushed.”

Clint wanted to crack a joke about it, but he knew better. “Yeah, well- worth it this once,” he grumbled. “So… we won, right?”

“Do we look dead or enslaved?” Steve asked as he walked in, Bucky behind him. “Yes, we won. You missed round two.”

“Hopefully there is a round three and I am smarter next time,” Clint winked. Natasha swatted the back of his head and he grinned. “Look at this! Family almost back together. Where is the god of thunder?” he asked.

“Asgard- resolving some issue,” Steve answered. “He was relieved to hear that you woke up, I am sure he will be happier to hear that you are back to being blissfully ignorant of the situation you just came out of.”

“Aww, Cap. Why dwell on the past? I lived, time to celebrate with broth,” Clint teased. He glanced past Steve and looked at Bucky. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days which was- was it odd? It seemed like it should be. Natasha made sense, and he was used to it with Tony, but Bucky? “Hey Buckaroo,” he greeted. “They spring you from Tower prison?”

Bucky looked shocked at first before he raised an eyebrow. “You are in Tower prison, if you hadn’t noticed.”

But that didn’t make sense. He knew the Tower had a medical floor but it was basic and didn’t have so many people. And Clint had seen at least two different nurses. He looked over at Tony who only shrugged. He would hire people to come in and help- would get Clint to the safest place they all knew, and a place Clint would be less likely to run from. For being an egotistical ass most of the time, Tony really knew how to come through when he needed to most.

“Crap, Tin Man, you do got a heart in there,” Clint teased. He leaned back and played with the edge of his blanket. “So- when do I get to see Lucky? Katie-kate is surely hanging around moping somewhere. Like my flat. Oh God, wait, did you let her in my flat?” he asked.  
\---

Over a three day period, Clint noticed that he was never alone, not for extended periods of times. He wondered if they were all worried after his scare, or if they were making sure he stayed in his bed like an obedient patient. Either way he was grateful for the distractions; he hated being stuck in bed as they “observed” him.

Day one, Bruce convinced the nurses that Clint wasn’t an infection risk, and Kate brought Lucky down to him as long as Clint didn’t get too worked up. Between bouts of exhaustion, Clint snuggled up to Lucky while he listened to stories from Kate. She was apparently having a great time being a West Coast Avenger, to officially be apart of the team, and was building the crew. After Clint’s first nap, the two sat there and watched viral videos of people failing at different tasks until one heart monitor went off from Clint’s excitement and the fun was squashed.

Day two Clint woke up to Bruce sitting in a chair with the tray table in front of him, filled with papers and a laptop. Apparently he was supposed to present some paper in front of students at M.I.T. in a few days at some conference. Clint made the mistake of asking Bruce what the paper was on, and felt bad when he fell asleep. But Bruce- he has the perfect, sexy smooth sleep voice and it worked like a charm.

Day three was when Clint started to get bored, considering how to plan his great escape. His irritation only grew when Tony and Steve showed up together, knowing full well that this was going to end in a fight. After a few minutes of pleasantries, the conversation turned to Clint’s need for new gear, something with more protection. This wasn’t the first time this conversation came up, and Clint was determined it wouldn’t be the last. He _loved_ his gear- they had been through so much together. It was comfortable and didn’t hinder his movement. And Clint could only picture Tony coming up with a metal suit that was in purple and gold. His only line of defense? Take his hearing aids out like the defiant child he was.

When Clint woke up on day four and felt a body near him, he was ready for another fight. He looked over and stared at Bucky, the man glancing over when Clint stared too long. He reached out and grabbed the hearing aids and held them out. Clint took them and out them in before smacking Bucky’s hand away from the remote.

“What are we watching?” Clint asked. He looked at the television and wrinkled his nose. “God, Barnes, stop being old. There’s other things on the television than the news.”

“You are the one who smacked my hand, dumbass,” Bucky snorted. “I was going to turn on cartoons for the most childish of the Avengers.”

“Oh, haha,” Clint muttered before he saw a video of himself on the television. “Awww man. What load of bull are they saying about me now?” he asked. 

He played with his hearing aids before the clip changed and his jaw dropped. Bucky scrambled to grab the remote again but Clint was quicker, nearly falling off the bed. There he was, passed out against a wall and surrounded by those aliens when Bucky swept in like a damn knight in shining armour.

“Are… you wearing my backup gear?” Clint asked in disbelief.

“Well, I don’t have my own gear,” Bucky snapped. “Which, by the way, decide if you are big or small. Adjusting the straps was a-”

“Holy crap, Barnes. You saved my life,” Clint blurted out, averting his attention back to Bucky. Bucky looked confused and shifted away from Clint. “Aww, Barnes. You like me!”

Bucky’s face turned red and he looked away. “Shut up, Barton.”

Clint could feel the smile growing and he leaned closer to Bucky, who only shifted further away. “Seriously, Barnes, thank you.” He leaned back and pulled his blanket up. “And I don’t care if you wear my backup gear. Or my backup backup. Or whatever monstrosity Tony is coming up with.”

“Please fall asleep,” Bucky muttered.

Clint wrinkled his nose and looked back at the television. “So- whats the verdict?” he asked. “Or do I need to-”

“Can we not?” Bucky asked softly.

“Sure thing, knight in shining armour,” Clint replied, turning the guide on.

“Oh look- Frozen.” Clint groaned and looked at the grin on Bucky’s face. Worth it- Clint turned the movie on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got ahead of myself again and figured it wouldn't hurt to post up a new chapter. I always try to stay a chapter or two ahead in case of writers block (which I am struggling with hardcore at the moment) or my job goes crazy with overtime (which it is).   
Anyway! I hope you enjoy it! Clint is alive and being his adorable self. Have a fabulous fall day everyone! <3


	11. The not so great escape

Yes, Clint had made a promise to stay still, let the tests happen and be released like a good patient. But Bruce had said he was being released on day five, and Clint didn’t see a babysitter in sight. He was careful to remove the IV, applying pressure as he slowly made his way out of bed. He had been stuck in medical for five days after he had woken up and he was itching to leave; Bruce and Tony were taking too long.

Clint search the room for spare clothing but came up short handed. Looks like he was going to be on the move in a hospital gown. Sexy. Clint made sure the bleeding had stopped before he looked up. Vents- please be clean. Infection would mean being back down in the hellhole that was medical and he wasn’t about that life anymore.

Clint made his way into the ventilation system and thought about his location before he was on the move. Not only was he going to make Bruce mad for leaving before release, but he was going to make Tony mad for JARVIS not being a snitch; he couldn’t decide which event made him smile more as he made his way up and around. Maybe he shouldn’t be so juvenile but- that wasn’t his style.

Clint only made it a few floors before he was out of breath and sore. Okay, maybe the vents weren’t the best idea. Clint found a drop-off point and opened the vent slowly, peeking his head down the hall. When he was clean, he dropped down, his left leg threatening to give out from the pain and Clint took a minute to let the pain dull before he got to the elevator.

Sadly, when the elevator opened, Clint groaned and felt ambushed. Steve, Pepper, and Tony were all three there, waiting for him. Clint considered disappearing back into the vents, but he was certain Steve would catch him before he could make it to safety.

“Hey guys,” Clint greeted.

Steve clasp his hands in front of his body. “Do you really think crawling around the tower in a hospital gown is a mature decision?” he asked.

Clint teetered his hand. “Pros and cons, Cap,” he replied. “I am going to assume I am in trouble for something. But not in bad enough trouble where Fury had to be involved- or Nat. So… I am guessing only minor trouble?” He was stalling, he knew it. He stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, taking the weight off his left leg.

“Not in trouble, no,” Pepper answered before holding a form out. “Read and sign. Seems like the reporter you saved the other day wants to have an exclusive interview for the morning news.”

Clint groaned and took the paper. “Can’t I get out of it?” he asked. “I mean, I am certainly not the brightest-”

“We all know you are smarter than you let on half the time,” Pepper said calmly, closing her file. “Anyway, with the media now focused on Bucky being in New York and aiding in your rescue, we believe this may be a chance to spin the story a bit more positively. You saved him, Bucky saved you, proving where his alliances are.”

“And people naturally like you,” Steve added.

Clint frowned. “People like me but don’t know me. Or I mean- no one knows if they like me as Hawkeye because they don’t know me as Hawkeye. Which is the point- if I still want to maintain my statuses at SHIELD, I can’t have people knowing.”

“Which is why you will be giving the interview here, at the Tower, in a controlled setting,” Pepper explained. “Back in your tactical gear, face shield on. Your identity will still be intact, and you will only be giving away what you want. But we need this to go smoothly.”

“Which is why we can start coaching you-”

“Nope, no thanks, would rather die,” Clint insisted. “I won’t mess it up. I can do it. Got a pen, Pepper?” he asked. When she held it out he glanced through it before signing it. “What could go wrong?” he asked.

“Considering not even two weeks ago you tried to die?” Tony asked. “A lot.”

\--- 

After some convincing, Clint sat through two dummy interviews on the med floor, taking pointers. He hated this already- he was not cuddly with the press. But it helped his friends and their cause, so he didn’t have much of a choice. After two hours, Clint convinced them he had learned a lot, needed to take his pain meds he had no plans on actually taking, and took off so he could shave and shower.

He got off on his floor and heard Kate talking, immediately suspicious. Clint took a moment before he opened the door and leaned against the doorway, the color in his face draining. Kate was sitting on the floor with Bucky, a box labeled ‘burn it’ settled between them and his possessions out in full view. Lucky had draped himself over Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s flesh hand patting the dog’s side.

“... are you kidding me right now?” Clint asked.

Kate looked up with a devilish grin. “You weren’t supposed to be let loose for three hours,” she sang cheerfully. “And some of these? Gold. By the way, you need pants.”

If it were just Kate, Clint would have been fine shoving her away and stuffing it all in the box. But the devious smile on Bucky’s face, a photo between his fingers and fanning himself- that was something Clint couldn’t deal with, not in a million years.

“Steve never mentioned you were in a circus,” Bucky said innocently, though that innocence certainly didn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s because literally the only person who knew was Natasha,” Clint said dryly.

He tried to rush forward but his leg decided against it, leaving him to stumble like an idiot. Bucky started to get to his feet but Clint held a hand out. He did not want the help. Lucky trotted over and brushed his hindquarters against Clint’s legs, his tail wagging at a dangerous speed and Clint gritted his teeth.

“Can you still do this?” Kate asked, holding out a picture of Clint dressed up in shorter shorts and a tank top, his body in a chest stand pose. “And seriously- how? Guys aren’t supposed to do this. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Clint moved around his couch and snatched the photo from her hand. “Is nothing sacred anymore?” he asked dramatically. “Yes, I can still bend like that. Well, close, maybe not the whole way. No, it doesn’t hurt if you stretch right.” He gathered up the photos and mementos and stuffed them in the box. He heaved it up and wrinkled his nose. “Don't you have some avenging to do or something? Something, I don’t know, useful and not here?”

Kate smiled up at him and Clint refused to smile back. “You really wanna be the one to walk Lucky?” she asked, her voice too sugar sweet. Clint groaned and rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Anyway- I ran into Bucky, and Lucky likes Bucky. So I invited him up and I was going to surprise you by labeling your trick arrows and I saw the box and- gold.”

“Interesting enough, Lucky likes to sprawl on people just like you do,” Bucky observed, Clint refusing to look at him. “I’m starting to see a pattern.”

Clint determined he was not going to enjoy Kate and Bucky getting along. The two of them together was going to be dangerous. Kate knew too much and Bucky was going to be a new teammate who could spill the beans on things Clint wasn’t prepared to talk about, his time in the circus included.

“You both suck,” Clint pointed out. He tossed the box back down and collapsed on the couch. “Screw it. Knock yourselves out. As long as it doesn’t end up on the internet, I don't care. But if either of you tell Steve or Tony there will be revenge and I am the best at it.”

“And what are you going to do?” Kate asked.

“If I am lucky, this will be a dream I wake up from and my fragile ego will still be intact,” Clint muttered. Lucky nosed his hand and whined. “Kate- our dog wants you.”

“Yeah yeah, come on Lucky,” Kate said, getting up. She patted her thigh and walked, Lucky trailing behind. “I’ll be back,” she added before she left the two alone.

Bucky stretched out and grabbed the box, pulling it over. “So whats the story behind the circus pictures? You look like you were younger than Kate.”

Clint groaned, already regretting his decision to leave the hospital early; this had to be some cosmic payback for ditching Bruce. He looked at Bucky, trying to gauge his interest, but the other man was looking back at him expectantly. There really was no getting out of it- his secret was out.

“My childhood wasn’t the best. My parents died, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and living in foster care just wasn’t working out. So my brother and I ran away and joined a circus,” Clint explained. “Its where I learned how to shoot, how to fight- it wasn’t exactly glamorous but I guess I owe it a little bit of a thanks for building character and all that.”

“And this?” Bucky asked, holding out the same photo Kate had held.

“What? Guy can’t be flexible?” Clint asked.

“At your size? No.” Well, at least Bucky was honest. Clint raised an eyebrow and watched as Bucky set everything out. “Why did you quit?”

“It was a front of organized crime, and when I found out- well, I got a nice scar as a parting gift,” Clint answered. Bucky frowned at the photos, silent. “Anyway, what grown adult actually wants to stay in a circus when you can be an Avenger?”

“Not like it was a direct path,” Bucky commented.

“No, I suppose not,” Clint agreed, sitting up and stretching. “But those are all stories for another time, Buckaroo.”


	12. Unravel

To say that Clint was nervous was an understatement. He felt jittery as he drank his coffee, already showered and in his tactical gear, his face shield down on the table next to him. He hated talking about himself as it was, but talking about his opinions on events were even more nerve wrecking. The sheer amount of coffee he had wasn’t helping but he needed something to keep him occupied.

Pepper walked in and Clint automatically knew something was wrong. He stood up and grabbed his face shield, tucking it under his arm. Tony was behind her, followed by Steve and Nat. This… didn’t look good. Steve and Tony appeared concerned, and Natasha looked like a storm. Clint held his head high and tilted it to the side.

“Before the interview this morning, this was released,” Pepper said, turning a tablet around in her hands and holding it out to Clint.

Clint took it, glancing down before he had to sit, the air rushing out of his lungs. A news article was published and it appeared as if someone leaked details on his Hawkeye persona, linking it to his real name and his previous track record. Everything Clint had worked so hard on, had SHIELD help him with- gone in an instant. He looked down at his seventeen year old self in the form of a mug shot and he closed his eyes as he slowly sank back to his chair.

“Shit.” He sat the tablet down on his lap and rubbed his face.

“Obviously we want to direct the attention away from this if at all possible,” Pepper said. “You will have to keep control of the topics, Clint. Try to refocus back to taking down the invasion, getting hurt, Bucky rescuing you. Fury had agreed to a small list of achievements-”

Clint tried to listen but he flipped between the article that was published and what intel he was allowed to divulge to the public. Natasha was standing behind him, her hands squeezing his shoulders as she leaned in, her chin digging into the top of his head.

“Barton.” Clint looked up from the tablet and his jaw tightened as he watched Steve. "You can cancel, but we feel like that may make things look all the more suspicious. Only divulge what you want to divulge. We are behind you one hundred percent, so do what you feel is right.”

“How much time do I have?” Clint asked.

“The reporter is setting up now, you have about five minutes,” Pepper informed him.

“Clint,” Natasha whispered.

“I’m fine- this is all great,” Clint said. “Call Fury- I want my apartment in Bed-Stuy to at least be emptied out of anything that can tie me to, well, me. Have Coulson take Kate to do it- Kate knows where everything is and the codes.” 

He stood up and tucked his face shield under his arm. He looked up and saw Bucky standing stiffly at the door, his hands in his pockets. Clint raised his hand in greeting and took a deep breath. He turned around and hugged Natasha.

“You can do this,” Natasha whispered. “You are smart. You can hide it all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Clint whispered, knowing full well Steve would be the only other person to hear it. “I ruin my shot at undercover missions with SHIELD, but at least I don’t have to hide anymore, right? And it takes some of the heat off of Bucky and Steve for a hot minute as they all get to gossip about me.”

“Barton,” Steve began.

“I’ve got this,” Clint said aloud, plastering a fake smile on his lips. “Whatever it takes, am I right? Pepper, let’s get this over with.”

Pepper nodded and walked with Clint down the hall. Clint loved the energy Pepper gave off- calm and collected even when things were less than perfect. Clint nudged her shoulder with his arm, giving her a warm smile. “I appreciate you bringing it to my attention before I could make myself look like a complete ass on air,” he offered.

“I am sorry this happened in the first place,” Pepper replied. “Tony will be working on tracking where the intel was leaked and-”

“If something more important comes up, make sure he redirects his attention,” Clint insisted. “We all knew this would happen sooner or later. With me out, Nat is next, and her alibi was already shaky. I’m shocked I got outed before her.”

Pepper stopped outside of the room that Clint never wanted to be in. Clint winked and slipped his face shield on, turning it on and dimming the screen. He pressed a different button that turned off all the extra flair Tony had built into the thing. Clint adjusted his gear, linking his bow to the back of his vest so he didn’t have to carry it. He grinned at Pepper and gave her a thumbs up.

“Let’s see if I can give Fury a heart attack. Wish me luck, Pepper.”

Clint slipped into the room and looked around. It was standard really, open and airy like much of the Tower’s bottom three floors. Clint searched for every possible entrance and exit, taking the mental note before he moved deeper in. Not that he thought anyone would infiltrate, this was the Tower after all, but doing simple sweeps kept him sharp.

“Hawkeye, they are ready,” Pepper called over.

“Yeah, okay,” Clint replied. He smiled and walked over to the set up, starting to feel more exposed. Why the hell did they need a room with so many windows, anyway?”  
“Mister Hawkeye, sir,” the reporter greeted, reaching a hand out.

“Hey, nice to meet you again,” Clint replied, shaking his hand and taking a seat. “And Hawkeye works. Mister is my father.” _Lame jokes are lame, Clint. Shut up._

“Are you ready?” the reporter asked.

“Oh, yeah, definitely, let’s do this,” Clint replied.

It started off easy enough, questions about how he became an Avenger, why he took up the position, and what it was like living around superhumans (and Tony). It felt too easy and Clint stayed relaxed through the first five minutes. Okay, maybe interviews weren’t so bad afterall.

“I just wanted to take the time here to play this one clip we have,” the reporter said. Clint looked towards the screen and watched his heroics being played back. It was something he would never get over- watching himself on the television doing the things he does, and looking good doing it. “I owe you a huge thank you for saving my life and injuring yourself in the process. What went through your mind at the time?” he asked.

“That I heard someone scream, that it couldn’t have been good, and I jumped into action,” Clint replied. “I assess the situation as I am on the move, try to work out variabilities, and try my best to get whomever, in this case you, to safety. My goal, all of our goals really, it to make sure citizens stay safe.”

“Even if you put yourself at risk?” the reporter questioned. Clint only nodded. “Because you took quite the hit, and no one saw you for a bit of time after this incident. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” Clint answered vaguely. The last thing he needed was Doom or M.O.D.A.K. knowing if he was still injured or not. “I just needed to take some time off, find my center before going back out, that’s all.”

“So this all leads us to what everyone saw at home just a few minutes after you saved my neck, which was when James Barnes shows up in what looks like your uniform to rescue you.” The clip played and Clint watched it reply. “No one had revealed Mr. Barnes was in New York, but clearly that is identical to your current outfit.”

Clint couldn’t help but to chuckle. “I wear tactical gear, the same as law enforcement. Mine has more padding to it, sure, but people in the military can be assigned the same, or close to. I don’t have a fancy suit like Cap or Iron Man, just some almost standard issue gear.” He knew that was a lie- his gear was custom made but from the distance on the camera, no one would be able to really see those built ins.

The reporter looked like he didn’t buy it. “What do you think about Captain America’s long time best friend being in New York and saving you?”

“I think I am grateful,” Clint answered honestly. “You saw the clip, I was passed out when Barnes got there, I was bleeding heavily and it looked dicey at best. I never make it my goal to die or get hurt, but that could have gotten ugly. So- I was happy Barnes was there to risk his life to save mine.” _Good answer, Clint.. Pepper isn’t mad yet._

“Even with his past history of HYDRA involvement?”

Clint shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone has past, right? His is just more public because of his connections.” What Clint really wanted to say was _Pretty sure the guy has more of a reason to hate HYDRA than me, but what do I know? I wasn’t tortured and used for literal years by some assholes._ That definitely would have made Pepper mad.

“So you were never concerned about him joining the team?” the report asked in disbelief.

_Keep calm, find that zone_ Clint reminded himself. “I won’t lie, of course I was concerned. Adding anyone to the Avengers roster makes me concerned because I have to work with them and count on them when things go from bad to worse. Barnes was the same. But he will be vetted, just like the rest of us, and I have to trust that system. So far it hasn’t failed me, and he stepped up in a big way. So am I still concerned? No, not really. Do I think he will be a shoe in to be an Avenger because he is Captain’s best friend? No.”

“Why not? He is the leader of the team.”

“Misconception, really,” Clint insisted. “We don’t have a leader technically. We all step up when we have to because sometimes someone had to take time off.”

“So you have been the leader?” Clint wasn’t sure if it was said with disbelief or something of the sort, but it instantly triggered something defensive in him.

“Of course I have lead the team before,” Clint answered. “Just like Widow has, and Tony. We are all capable of taking orders as well as dealing them out. It all depends on what the mission requires. Widow and I specialize in things everyone else doesn’t. Just like if we were working with an Asgardian, Thor would be the natural leader.”

“So you are saying that Captain America doesn’t get the final say then?” the reporter asked. Clint glanced at Pepper, hoping for a way out of it. “Because a lot of people are speculating that this last attack on New York was staged in order to bring positive media attention to Mr. Barnes-”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Clint corrected, no longer about to keep the heat from his voice. That made Pepper take a step and shake her head. _Keep it cool, Clint. It’s just a reporter._

“-and to build his humanity,” the reporter finished. Clint felt his face give away how he was feeling, felt his lips pull up for a brief moment and his nose wrinkle. “With a past like his, it could be hard to humanize him, after all. With him being likened to serial killers and-”

“You know, I think a lot of people are afraid of things they don’t understand,” Clint said. “They don’t know what to think of Barnes so they immediately jump to the negative aspect of it. Which is completely normal. But he is different than what he was. Just like I am sure you are a different person than you were ten years ago, same with me.”  
He knew it was stupid- he was making a huge mistake that he was purposely told to avoid, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew he was going to take heat for it but in that moment, the only important thing to him was to take some of the heat off from Steve and Bucky. So he did the one thing he shouldn’t.

Clint reached up and pulled his face shield off. He caught a glimpse of Pepper holding a hand out before she leaned in to talk to some man in a suit. Clint settled the shield down on his lap and ran his fingers through his hair, letting it stick up before he looked at the reporter. If it wasn’t for his nerves, he would have relished more in his shock.

"By the way, I saw a report this morning regarding my personal life. So I figured I may as well come clean,” Clint said before he held a hand out to the report. “The name’s Clint Barton, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and more importantly, Hawkeye. Well, one of two Hawkeyes. It’s complicated but it’s totally cool.”

The reporter reached out slowly and took his hand, giving Clint the weakest of hand shakes before pulling away.

Clint felt his watch buzz against his skin and he looked down. “ ‘cuse me,” he said, not caring if they were still filming. “Sorry to cut this meeting short, if it is short, but I have some official business to attend to.” He stood up and reached back, grabbing his bow with his right hand as his left held onto his face shield. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for your time,” he added.

He didn’t pay attention to whether the red light had gone off before he walked towards the door. He heard the familiar clicking of Pepper’s heels coming up behind him and he reached his left hand out, Pepper taking his face shield. He took a deep breath and went through the door, greeted by the not-so-smiling faces of Fury and Coulson.

“Really, Barton?” Fury asked, the anger leaking out from his voice. “That was the best you could do?”

Clint grinned and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Let’s go chat somewhere less exposed,” he suggested. “Hey Pep- tell the others I’ll probably be out for several hours. I’ll get with them later.”

“Of course,” Pepper said. “I have some other business to take care of,” she admitted.

“Sorry to cause you more work,” Clint apologized before he walked. “Let’s go start the Barton bitch fest, guys.”


	13. The Aftermath

Clint wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was going to be out for several hours. Coulson and Fury kept him locked away for three hours. The first hour was spent yelling and arguing. Fury went on about how he was “one of the best damn spies” and “you couldn't handle a little pressure.” There were more colorful words than that, because it was Fury after all, but Clint couldn’t argue with him. Coulson took a different approach, asking him what his plan was behind all of this. Several times the phrase “you are smarter than this” was brought up by Coulson, which Fury always replied back with “is he though?” 

Clint remained silent for an hour, letting the two men get it all out of their system, trying to keep his face blank from emotions. There was nothing he could say in his defense. Fury was right, Clint was one of the best spies and agents S.H.I.E.L.D. had, and he had extensive interrogation training; there wasn’t a good explanation on why he had cracked enough to throw away his privacy that he was so careful with. He had gone into the meeting thinking that, if asked, he would divert attention away from the allegations. He didn’t go in planning to out himself.

Clint wasn’t going to tell Fury and Coulson why he had done it, not the real reason. It was easier to pretend he made a stupid mistake than admit he did it so for a day or two Barnes didn’t have to listen to what the media was saying about him. Sure, he could spin it like he thought it was helping the team, but three out of seven currently having drama wasn’t exactly good for the PR department. It was easier to not admit that when Bucky had his guard down, which wasn’t often, Clint could make out almost exactly what his mind was on. Being an assassin wasn’t ever easy, but being forced to be something you didn’t want to be had to be a thousand times worse. Clint wasn’t going to admit there was a weakness for the guy, and Clint didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about that aspect of the whole thing either.

Clint took the shot and was trying not to focus on where the cards laid, because he still had a job to do, with or without public support. It was a calculated risk, but the payoff could be great for more than just Barnes. In the end, Clint determined he was the only one who had a lot to lose in the transaction. So why not? He was only hurting himself on this one.

The last two hours of their meeting was focused on damage control. They needed a plan in order to figure out who released his identity, and how to prevent anything else being leaked. Everyone now could see his criminal record from between the ages of thirteen to eighteen, most of it petty thief to robberies. What no one had access to yet was the crimes he did when he became smarter, was able to cover up his vigilantism. The only people that knew that part of his history were the two men sitting with him; Natasha knew some of it, but certainly not all of it, just like he didn’t know everything about her history.

Clint was going to need to write a statement, which made him groan. Despite his protests that clearly he wasn’t made for press releases, Fury and Coulson wouldn’t cave. He had two days, less being preferable. He wanted to pout and whine until Coulson caved, but this was his big mess up- he was going to have to be mature and fix it on his own. He didn’t bother to ask about his position back at S.H.I.E.L.D., he figured those days were long behind him now, no reason to dwell on it.

By the time he was finally dismissed, Clint wasn’t sure he could possibly feel worse about himself and his decision. He had upset so many people, caused so much trouble, but there was no taking it back. No one expected his identity to stay a secret, superheroes rarely stayed anonymous for long and he had a good, long run at staying faceless. But that didn’t seem to bring him any comfort.

Clint wasn’t sure he was prepared to see the team yet. He knew Natasha would at least stand by his decision, even though he knew in his gut she disagreed with it. She would wrap herself up against him and comfort him in public before scolding him in private. Tony would be the most vocal about it, probably asking him just how stupid he was or a variation of that. Steve would most likely stay quiet because he knew why Clint did it while Bruce would try to diffuse the situation from escalating. Clint could already imagine the fight between Nat and Tony, since Tony would be snarky while Natasha would fiercely be protective.

He pulled himself into the vent system and found one of his cubby holes with ease, tucking himself into the stack of blankets that were there. No one was going to come for him- no one liked the tight spaces like he did. He pulled his hearing aids out and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

\-----

When Clint woke up, he stretched out his legs and climbed down from the vent. He yawned and shoved his hearing aids in his ears before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. When he looked up he jumped backwards and clutched his chest.

“What in the actual-?” he growled.

“Have a good nap, bird brain?” Tony asked. “How is it that you are the tallest of us, and yet you can sleep comfortably in tiny spaces? Where does Natasha let you sleep at night? Should we be concerned?”

“Stalker much?” Clint asked. 

The team was there, plus Bucky naturally by this point. Natasha went to move forward but was cut off from Bucky advanced. Clint assessed his movements then took a step back, seeing the fury behind his eyes.

“What did you do?” he asked angrily.

“Slept in a vent, pal, not that abnormal for me,” Clint answered.

“The interview, idiot,” Bucky snapped.

“Bucky,” Steve warned.

“Oh, piss off, Barnes,” Clint grumbled. He took another few steps back when Bucky still advanced. Clint’s mind snapped to fight mode when Bucky didn’t seem to back down. “Steve, tell your guard dog to back down,” he growled.

“You both need to calm down,” Bruce said.

“Us both?!” Clint asked. “I just woke up and he’s acting like I punched a dog.”

Bucky’s metal hand reached out quickly and grabbed Clint by the front of his shirt and pulled him in closer. Clint grabbed his arm with his left hand and brought his elbow down against Bucky’s, closing a bit of the distance between them. Before either of the two could take a swing, Bucky was being pulled back by Steve and Natasha was squeezing her way in the middle.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Steve asked Bucky, pushing him back with a hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky asked Clint, standing on his toes to peer over Steve better. “Why did you do that? Do you know what they are saying about-”

“Because I wanted you to catch a break,” Clint snapped, though he held his hands up so he wouldn’t surge against Natasha. “I don’t care what they are saying about me. But I couldn’t sit there and take all the damn questions about you and Steve, and you becoming an Avenger.”

“I didn’t ask you to stand up for me,” Bucky spat.

“Oh, so shoot me for being a decent guy,” Clint replied.

“It was a stupid idea, stepping out like that,” Bucky snarled.

“We need to calm down,” Bruce said, a little tense.

“Clint,” Natasha warned, pushing him back a step.

Clint knew he had to calm down, but Bucky’s glare was making it so damn hard. “You want to be mad at me, Bucky? Fine. Be mad, whatever. Whether you agree with it or not, I made a calculated move, I didn’t do it without thinking about it. But if you ever lay your hands on me again like that and I’ll see to it that you are missing more than just one arm.”

Steve firmly held onto Bucky who lurched forward. Clint reached for Natasha’s side, where he knew she always kept a spare knife or two, but Natasha grabbed his arm and walked him back so he was against the wall; he didn’t fight her on it, keeping his eyes on Bucky. Bruce shook his head and walked away, his hands coming up to his hair. Tony was frozen, actually staying out of the fight for a change.

“Were threats really necessary?” Steve asked as he backed Bucky away.

“Oh, right, because he didn’t start this whole thing off,” Clint replied angrily. Bucky opened his mouth to argue “Hey, no, you don’t get a say in this. You are the reason this is happening right now. I tried to do you a solid and-”

“I didn’t ask for you to do anything for me!” Bucky shouted.

“I made the call and I am not going to apologize for it,” Clint yelled. “I told you this was going to happen, Steve. I warned you. We get enough bad press, and now look.”

“We were handling the press fine until you got-” Steve began to state.

“You finish that, and I am letting him go,” Natasha hissed. “You are not blaming Clint for Bucky running into downtown New York to save him.” Clint flinched and reached up, touching her arms lightly.

“I am not blaming Clint,” Steve explained calmly, though even Steve was starting to crack. “All I was saying was that-”

“Someone had to save his ass because he made a mistake, that doesn’t mean-” Bucky started to say.

Natasha knocked Clint’s arm down and rushed forward. Clint scrambled to catch her before she could get close to Steve, who pushed Bucky backwards again. Clint wrapped an arm around Natasha’s shoulders and pulled her back against his body, hoping she wouldn’t retaliate just to pull away. Bruce waved them off and turned to walk, his hands coming up to his hair to brush through it nervously.. Tony opened his mouth to say something but decided to follow Bruce instead.

“Alright, this has been fun,” Clint grunted, taking a step back, forcing Natasha back with him. “Idea here- you take your murder stray, I’ll take mine. Nat, I’ve got homework that I am supposed to do by myself so…”

“I think we should-”

“Steve, Cap, man, no, not tonight,” Clint said, pushing Natasha to the stairwell. “Rain check.” Clint felt something tremble under his feet. “And now we got the Hulk. Lovely.” He rubbed his face, hoping Natasha would take advantage and spring back towards Bucky. “Someone has to go help Tony with that and it’s not going to be me, I know that for sure. And I’m staying with Tasha so… tag, Cap, you’re it.”

Clint shoved Natasha into the stairwell and made sure the door closed. He let out a huff and glared at Natasha, who returned the expression effortlessly. Clint shoved her again before he started up the stairs.

“What did I do?” Natasha demanded, her footsteps stomping up the stairs after him.

“I was handling it on my own, I didn’t need you jumping in and making it worse,” Clint grumbled.

“You threatened to cut off a body part,” Natasha argued, “that is hardly handling it.”

“Yeah, well… ugh,” Clint groaned. “We are sleeping on your floor tonight. Can we fight when we get there and after we order food? I’m hungry and I’m getting winded.”

“Old man,” Natasha muttered behind him. Clint felt her hand catch the belt loop of his pants and tug. Clint slowed down and moved to the side, letting her join him. “Are you okay?” she asked. Her eyes were searching his, and he knew she would catch him if he was lying.

Clint leaned back against the rail and closed his eyes. “I did think about it before I did it,” he assured her. He opened one eye first, waiting for the shoe to drop, but she was silent. “I’m fine, Tasha. Really.”

“If it makes you feel better… I’ll kill him,” Natasha offered.

Clint rolled his eyes and shoved her again, climbing. “You know what will make me feel better? Food. And a beer. And maybe some Dog Cops. And Lucky but that’s not going to happen.”

“Pizza?”

“Chinese. And a lot of it.”

“Chinese with beer?” Nastaha asked.

“Chinese and vodka?” Clint suggested.

Natasha beat him up a few stairs. “Anything is better with vodka.”

Clint hoped she was right, because at the moment he was questioning his decision. Steve was proud, Tony seemed shocked, Bruce frustrated, but Bucky… _God Barton- you screwed up this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept tinkering with this one and decided to post so I will stop obsessing about it. I think I rewrote the team section about a dozen times now?  
Anyway! I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you had a great weekend! I'm finishing mine up with (American) football and maybe some good ol' Taco Bell.


	14. Doing the grind

The month of September was not Clint’s month. He had back to back to back missions for S.H.I.E.L.D., with only three days between them. And what little time he had off, he was either sleeping or avoiding the team, largely Steve and Bucky. 

The first mission was with Natasha, which would have been a plus if she hadn’t had gotten sick, leaving him to track their target largely by himself. Clint wouldn’t complain about it, it’s not like she could plan getting food poisoning, but that doubled his working time. By the time she felt better, she had to spring right into action, which lead to a mistake being made; it wasn’t even a critical one, but it seemed to put her into a bad mood. The whole ride home, she was seething, glaring at Clint at his lame attempted to make her feel better. When they got back to the tower she shoved him back in the elevator, going to her floor by herself. It was until the next day that she came back around.

The middle mission was nothing. An easy takedown that Clint handled by himself. He had to travel for it, finding himself in Syria. If Clint had ever pulled off the perfect mission, this was it. He was in and out, finding his target and eliminating the threat quickly, never at threat of drawing public attention. Clint rewarded himself with an extra two days in the country, traveling to different ruins and snapping photos for Natasha, buying a few little trinkets and pieces of jewelry for her. The jetlag home was what killed him- not to mention he thought he was coming down with a sinus infection. 

Three days after he got to the tower, Clint was sent back out into the field. He was stuck pulling a mission with a team he had never worked with before, which always put his nerves on edge. The way one of the men on the team kept watching him set his alarms off, but he just grinned and dealt with it. When the location turned out to be some freaky undercover spinoff HYDRA base, the mission took a dramatic turn. Clint groaned as he realized what was going down, not in the mood for the trouble.

Clint had expected a little bit of a fight, but he hadn’t expected two enhanced humans on the scene. If Natasha was there, they would have had it handled with ease. But covering the backs of a team you never worked with? It was a challenge. He was pretty sure it started when someone mistook his presence and rammed the end of their gun into his shoulder, the man sputtering to get the apology out. Then he lost track of exactly one man who managed to whack the front of his head, sending him sprawling on the ground and curling up. At least the shoulder agent came in fast, giving Clint the time he needed to get back to his feet. He couldn’t remember what he did to his back and ribs to make them ache like hell.

While the mission didn’t exactly fail, it wasn’t a complete success either. The team leader was bitching up a storm at his team. Clint had a good idea it was because he was there that the tensions were on the rise, but he didn’t have the energy to argue about it anymore. He reached up and turned his hearing aids off and leaned his head back after bandaging himself.

So when Clint finally made it back to New York during the last week of September, he wasn’t thrilled to see the stylized A flash on his watch, hanging his head and holding it. All he wanted was a nap, not yet another fight. Clint sighed and took off for downtown Manhattan, trying to get a sense of everything. 

He didn’t even have time to switch his hearing aids over to the comm setting before he ran into the first robot. It took several minutes of fighting and running before he found a spot to switch the hearing aid over, being flooded with noise.

_“Got it! You know this is easier when Legolas is here, right?”_ Tony said.

“It’s the right shoulder near the upper panel,” Clint grunted, taking out another robot.

_“Legolas! When the hell did you get back?”_ Tony asked.

“Literally ten minutes ago,” Clint answered, ducking from an explosive bot. He grabbed an arrow and took out another one, watching it crash. “Where should I be? I’m up by-”

_“Sending you coordinates- need some… help.”_

Clint was surprised to hear Bucky’s voice, taken aback by the simple request. Clint looked down at his watch when the coordinates came in and tapped the feature on before taking off in his direction. _You can do this, Clint. You are on an assignment. You’ve worked with worse than Barnes- like Rumlow._

“Give me about ten here, Buckaroo,” Clint said.

_“What did you just call him?”_ Tony asked.

“Going dark,” Clint muttered, switching his comms back off. Nope, too tired for Tony.

Clint made his way down to where Bucky should be. He slowed down and looked around. “Bucky?” he called. He wasn’t even there. Clint took a few more steps then looked down at his watch. “Barnes? What the hell, man?” he asked.

He heard a woman’s muffled scream and his neck hairs stood up. Clint looked at a storefront that had it’s window smashed and he ran over, jumping through. He looked around and heard a shuffle. He pulled out an arrow and held it down and ready as he rounded the corner.

Bucky was holding onto a woman, a hand over her mouth. He looked positively wrecked with worry, looking up just as Clint rounded the counter. There was blood, but he couldn’t tell who’s. And then the woman-

“She thinks she’s in labor,” Bucky explained. “I don’t- I don’t know what to do with that.”

Clint took a moment before he walked over, crouching. “Switch me spots,” he instructed. “How are you with blood?” he asked.

“Better than screaming,” Bucky admitted.

“Disturbing but alright,” Clint said. “Call paramedics, let’s see what we can do. Sweetheart- whats your name?” Clint asked. Bucky slowly moved his hand.

“B-bella,” she replied. “Please, he’s only… he’s only seven months along.”

“We’ll do our best,” Clint said. “Contractions, right? How are they spaced?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.

Clint nodded and looked at Bucky, who hadn’t moved. “Bucky, switch out. Call paramedics, stand guard. I need to figure out the contractions and all that so we can let them know something accurate.” Clint moved over and pulled the woman up a little, edging Bucky away. “You got this, Avenger. Focus. Kinda don’t want to die by robots.”

Bucky took a deep breath before he nodded, placing the call. Clint had no idea how to handle the situation, but he figured he was more adept at it than Bucky would have been. Clint felt on edge anytime Bucky would fire his gun, holding onto the woman a little tighter.

Five minutes apart. That seemed short, but Clint wasn’t sure what the number had to be. He tried to keep the woman calm, keeping his voice as positive as he could. He had to remind himself not to react when she reached back and gripped his shoulder through another contraction, squeezing.

“I see them,” Bucky called. “Paramedics are almost here.”

“Great, good,” Clint said. “Almost done with this contraction, sweetheart. So close. Then we need to move. Do you think you can do that with us?”

As soon as the contraction seemed to be over, Clint was on the move, helping the woman to her feet. Bucky came over, helping take most of her weight as they wedged the trio through the store and towards the front. Clint wasn’t sure which of the three were the most relieved to see the paramedics, rushing over to take over.

Clint watched the ambulance start to pull away before he turned, stumbling. He was tired, all his energy zapped out of him. He put a hand on the building and looked ahead before checking his watch. He knew he should back off, hunker down and wait it out but he could push a little while longer. _Twenty more minutes and you can be in bed. You’ve gone longer._

“Barton?”

“I’m good, Buck,” Clint promised, taking a deep breath. He looked up and frowned at Bucky’s concerned face. “Just gotta take a moment. Let the guys know that we are going to start checking buildings on this side- try to aid in rescues. If they need us to converge in, they’ll have to let you know.”

“Do you need to sit?”

“I’m fine,” Clint insisted.

“You aren’t fine,” Bucky snapped.

Clint reached up and turned his comm system back on. “Steve, tell Bucky to listen to his elders.” Bucky glared and Clint could only smirk. “He’s being a bossy bitch,” he added before he walked down the street.

Clint didn’t get far before Bucky grabbed the back of his vest, hauling him back. “Steve, the guy is barely standing on his feet,” Bucky challenged.

_“Can you two work this out by yourselves like adults?”_ Steve asked. _“Kind of busy taking down killer robots right now.”_

Clint looked over his shoulder at Bucky. “Look, Buck, we have a job to do. I got this.”

“Ten minutes.” Clint looked puzzled. Ten minutes? “We worked it out. We are going to do a sweep of the area, aid in what we can for a few minutes before we head in.”

_“Ha! He is Barton Ruling you, Legolas, and he doesn’t even know the Barton Rules yet.”_ Tony’s laughter only increased Clint’s annoyance at the situation. _“I cannot wait to tell this to Natasha. She is going to laugh her-”_ Clint shut his comm back down.

“Barton Rules?” Bucky asked.

“I’m really starting to hate you, Barnes,” Clint groaned before he walked. “Come on. We have a job to do.”

“For ten minutes,” Bucky added.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Clint got to work, searching in buildings and helping with first aid. He would glance up, trying to keep an eye on Bucky and what he was doing. He seemed more hesitant to touch anyone, but he would give pointers. Clint figured as long as Bucky was in his sight, nothing too serious could happen and any disagreements could be squashed quickly.

Clint’s favorite thing about New York was the people. Sure, they tended to be busy assholes at times, rude on the streets and honking their horns at a near constant basis. However, when something major happened, the people came together, helped each other; it was in those times where everyone came together and became heroes.

“Hey, we have to go.” Clint felt Bucky’s metal hand meet his shoulder before it slipped under his arm, helping him to his feet. Clint couldn’t remember sitting at any point.

“Ten minutes?” Clint guessed.

“Made it twenty,” Bucky answered. Clint nodded and leaned against Bucky, starting to feel shaky. “You going to make it, Barton?”

“Yeah, got this,” Clint muttered.

“Did you get hit?” Bucky asked. That was a valid question. Clint was fairly certain he didn’t get hit, that he was just overly tired. He shook his head and looked straight ahead. He was surprised when Bucky moved his hand around Clint’s back then tried to keep him hauled up. “Do you need-”

“I just need a bed and to sleep for the next three days,” Clint interrupted.

They fell into a comfortable silence, at least for Clint. He didn’t want to hear rambling, if he did he’d turn his comm feature back on. Just as he started to feel sluggish again the tower came into view and he forced himself to talk a little quicker. He didn’t even ask if there was still robots to fight- he just needed out.

Once inside the tower, he started to strip off extra layers as he walked to the downstairs supply room. He took off his vest and bracers and tossed them to his bin- and missed. Clint froze on the spot, his fingers twitching at the sight. He groaned and took a step but Bucky strolled ahead.

“I’ve got it,” he offered.

“You don’t have to-” Clint began.

He watched as Bucky dumped the items into the bin and opened a locker. He set out a pair of sweats and a Tshirt, then moved down. Clint was surprised Bucky even knew where his stuff was located, or why, but he wasn’t going to argue. Clint stripped off his layers, wincing as he went. He toed off his boots and kicked them into the locker before pulling down his pants. He nearly jumped when he heard Bucky suck in air.

“What the hell, Barton?” Bucky asked.

“Wha?” Clint asked before looking down. He was nothing but littered with bruises, some more angry than others. “Oh… yeah…”

“You look like shit! What were you thinking?” Bucky asked, that angry edge coming back. “You should have-”

“Do me a favor and save me the lecture,” Clint requested, pulling on sweatpants that were at least a size too big and just the right level of comfort as they hung low on his hips, not pressing into any of the angrier bruises. “I know, alright? I know I shouldn’t have answered the call; I know I should have came here and left everyone else to deal with it. I know that.”

“Then why the hell-”

“Buck,” Clint stressed, struggling to get his shirt on. “Can we rain check this?” he asked. “Maybe get into a fight later? I just… I just really need to sleep.”

Bucky didn’t look any happier than he had, though the angry was replaced by annoyance. He reached up and touched his ear piece and Clint flinched. “Steve, what the hell is the Barton Rule about hospitals and pain meds?”

“I don’t need a hospital, stop being bossy,” Clint growled. He managed to finally get his shirt on, happy his shoulders didn’t have to rotate anymore for several minutes. “You don’t know-”

“Steve said you either take a pain pill or when they get back Bruce will-”

“You fight dirt, Barnes,” Clint said before walking. “Tell Steve to leave Bruce out of this. Dun need another fucking bossy babysitter.”

“Clearly you do- have you seen you?” Bucky asked, following Clint.

Clint switched his comms back on. “Steve, I am going to punch him if he doesn’t-”

_“Barton, take a pill and sleep it off. We will talk in the morning. I am staying out late to help in some cleanup. Tony too. Bruce will be there to check in.”_

Bucky almost looked smug, his arms crossed. Clint just wanted to pass out, his legs starting to tremble a little more, threatening to give away. He was _not_ going to pass out in front of Barnes and let the man win whatever argument they were having now. Clint watched as the elevator moved up the floors. He could feel himself getting angrier the longer Bucky stared at him; he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of arguing.

Clint stormed off the elevator and to his floor as soon as he could. He slowly dragged his bow up, grunting when he had to reach to put it over it’s holding loops mounted on the wall. He didn’t fair much better when it came to his quiver, opting to stand on his toes more to lessen the stress in his shoulders.

“I could have-”

“Can you just fuck off, Barnes?” Clint asked, keeping the heat out of the tone as much as he could.

“Pill first, then I’ll fuck off.”

“You are as bad as Tasha,” Clint snapped, heading to the kitchen. 

Clint hated the pills he was given for days like today. They made him feel groggy, feel light as a feather as they melted the pain away. He avoided them at all costs normally, opting for ice packs, frozen peas- anything besides the loopy feeling. He got a bottle of water out of the fridge and chugged half of it just to take the damn pill.

“Satisfied?” Clint asked, looking at Bucky.

“Not yet,” Bucky said. “I think we need to-”

“Do not say the word talk,” Clint warned. “You said you’d leave after the pill. I took the pill. So… there is the door, you know the way out.”

Clint felt bad the instant Bucky seemed to lose his steam and look hurt. “Yeah, right,” Bucky said. “I’ll let Bruce handle you.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked to the door, pulling in more. Clint couldn’t take it, watching Bucky make himself smaller than he already was.

“Barnes, hold on a second,” Clint called. Bucky stopped and turned slightly, just enough to get a good look at Clint. “You did good today. It wasn’t easy. You should feel proud of yourself.” Bucky gave a sharp nod before he took off. 

Clint scrubbed his face before he padded to his bedroom. He managed not to flop down on his bed. He couldn’t get comfortable, everything starting to settle in his bones. When relief did finally start settling in, Clint threw up a pray to the gods that he slept for the next twelve hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First- I am apparently over being clever with fun chapter titles. My brain just isn't with me on those right now.  
Second- Woooo! I am excited because I am on a staycation until Halloween day- a day I am dedicating to my love of all things Hawkeye and channeling my inner Kate Bishop (or Clint if I can find the right outfit).  
Sorry- had to share (and brag). I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. =)


	15. Can't catch a break

Clint went back to his Bed-stuy apartment as soon as Coulson told him he was off duty for at least five days, and that Natasha was gone for that time period. Between being bored and everything hurting, he couldn’t take living in the tower. Tony, Steve, and Bruce checking up on him every few hours, pushing pain medication to keep him numb from the pain. The few times he went to the commonspace, everyone seemed to quiet down a little, Bucky barely looking his way. His nerves were on fire, he was short tempered, and he couldn’t take the tension.

If Clint was going to be bored anywhere, he might as well do it somewhere he felt more comfortable. The worst part was going up the stairs to his apartment; Clint had to stop halfway and take a break, catch his breath and let everything stop burning before he dragged himself the rest of the way up. But when he finally made it to his couch, everything was worth it.

It smelled like himself and Lucky. He could see Lucky hairs by his feet and he missed him. Maybe he needed to take a break, a vacation, and go out west. He could hang out with Kate and the team out that way. They could do their missions and he could ignore them, or attempt to, and take Lucky to the park. Maybe the warmer weather would do him good. Maybe Clint needed the vacation so he could feel a little more human and less like a disaster.

Clint looked up when his phone went off, debating if he should answer it. “I hate you,” he whispered to the ringtone. He picked it up and checked the name before he swore under his breath before he turned it on speaker phone. “Director,” he greeted.

“You sound down for a man that is on medical leave for another five days,” Fury commented. “Where is your location currently, Barton?”

“My apartment in Bed-stuy,” Clint answered. “I can’t go on a mission, Fury. I can’t even move right now, let alone draw my bow back.”

“This isn’t really a go out and fight mission, more like a favor,” Fury said. Clint frowned- Fury never called in favors. “I need you to take Barnes and head to the Iowa safehouse.”

Clint felt every muscle in his body tense up. “Take Barnes why?” Clint asked. “And why do I have to go there? Can’t you make someone else do it?”

“I need to have the house checked on, make sure it is in working order. Tornado ripped through closeby and I want to make sure it’s standing. The internet seems to be down there. And Barnes is going because I need the other Avengers to stay in New York.”

“And Barnes can’t go solo because…?” Clint asked.

“Because you know where you are heading and can fly the damn Quinjet, Barton,” Fury answered. “I already pushed it by Coulson. Light duty. No climbing ladders- make Barnes do that. I am sending out the message now. I expect you to report back that you landed there tonight.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Clint grumbled, hanging up. 

Two days. He couldn’t even make it a full two days without a crisis. Admittedly, this was a small one, but he still had his reservations about it. As he got to his feet, Clint wanted to call Coulson and bite his head off. Who sends a medical leave agent out to do groundwork? And why the hell did he have to be the one to go to Iowa? Hardly anyone used that safehouse anyway, and he really hated the place.

Clint shoved his shoes on, grabbed his backpack, and left. The streets were busy, Clint trying not to react whenever someone ran into him. Clint ducked into a baker, picked up a dozen cupcakes that were already decorated for Halloween. He hopped the subway to get back to the right district. He looked around the train, taking in a visual sweep as the train went by. Regretfully, he had to give up his seat for an older woman because he was not the kind of guy that wouldn’t; the swaying wasn’t helping his back any and he rode out the pain.

He got to the tower and walked through the front doors just as Steve, Bucky, and Tony were getting off the elevator. He knew instantly it wasn’t good and his guard went up. Bucky almost looked apologetic off the bat while Tony was focused solely on Steve; Steve walked with a purpose, the fire behind his eyes.

“You are not going,” Steve said firmly when he saw Clint.

“You aren’t my boss, Steve,” Clint replied evenly. He didn’t want to have yet another fight, he just wanted to get the favor done and get home. “Last time I checked, Fury pays my bills.”

“You are on medical leave. I don’t care if it’s a cake thing, checking some damn wires, you aren’t going.” 

Clint rolled his eyes and went to get into the garage when Steve grabbed his bruised shoulder. Clint flinched then spun, his arm coming up to block Steve and push his arm away while his other hand shoved as hard as he could to force Steve back.. “Jesus, Steve,” he said, the bag with the cupcakes falling to the ground. “Watch the damn super strength.” Clint held onto his shoulder and glared.

Steve took a moment, collecting himself. At least he looked ashamed of the action, otherwise Clint felt like he would have lost it. “Tony can go check on it.”

“Fury insisted he needed the other Avengers here. People in fighting condition,” Clint argued. “I think if a cornstalk sways in my direction I can still take it out. If not, I’ll get _him_ to do it for me.”

“When the hell are you going to learn to take a fucking break, Barton?” Steve snapped.

“Cap swore,” Clint and Tony said at the same time.

“This isn’t a joke!”

“I’m not laughing,” Clint responded angrily. He sat down and pulled the bag up, checking the condition on the cupcakes. _God this is a disaster._ “Look, I’m not thrilled, alright? You think I want to go back to Iowa? I hate Iowa. I hate that house. I would rather be lying around sleeping than go there. But I was given a direct order, so I am going. This wasn’t my idea.” Clint looked back up at the three men in the room with him.

Steve looked beyond pissed. His lips were in a thin line, jaw set, arms crossed- Clint was waiting for him to explode again. Clint slowly made his way to his feet, proud that he didn’t once wince or groan. He was pretty sure his shoulder was going to have a bigger bruise on it now. Clint picked up the bag and held it out.

“Look- I brought cupcakes,” Clint said. Steve frowned even more and Tony rose his eyebrows. “Take the peace offering, Steve. I’ll have Bucky back in three days. Fury said he gets to do all the heavy lifting. All I am doing is flying a Quinjet and checking connections. Any damages, Bucky can handle it. I’ll give directions. I’ll stay seated even. But arguing about this isn’t going to change the fact that we have to go there.”

“And any sign of trouble, you’ll pull out,” Steve added.

“Probably at a slow pace because I am not running,” Clint said. “We got a deal?”

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something feels wrong about this.”

“Yeah, well, that’s been my year,” Clint muttered. “I’m going to check the jet over. Do me a favor? Make me some coffee and run to the equipment room and grab my two bags? They should be packed already.”

Steve nodded and turned. Tony looked at the bag of cupcakes still in Clint’s hand and took it before following Steve. Clint sighed and hung his head, needing to close his eyes to focus. He was tired suddenly from all the explosive activity. He took a deep breath before he went to the garage to check over the Quinjet.

“He’s just worried,” Bucky said when Clint moved from the outside to the inside. Clint looked over from a computer system. “We all are.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” Clint replied, turning back to the system. “I’m sure it’s just a fried cable that needs replaced if there was a strong power surge. 

“About you,” Bucky clarified. “You keep taking mission after mission, jumping in head first. You are avoiding everyone-”

“Can we not talk about this?” Clint requested.

“You are running and we just want to know why.” Clint let his hand drop and he looked down again. “We don’t want to watch you get burned, Clint. I get I had a hand in kicking this disaster off- that I brought stress into the team after the interview. But you can’t run forever Clint. At some point you need to catch a break or else something bad is going to happen.”

“It’s funny that you all think I don’t know that,” Clint commented, looking up at Bucky. He needed to keep his tone down, needed to take it easy. “Look, this wasn’t my idea. Fury called me. If we leave, we can stay the night tonight, fix the problem, and be back by tomorrow night. I can ask Coulson to make up the difference on the medical leave, gain two days. He’d agree to it. If not, Hill will force the issue and she’s a scary lady when she wants to be.”

“We can stay two nights,” Bucky suggested. “Give you another night of rest.”

Clint gave him a weak smile. “That’s cute that you think that. Not exactly going to sleep well while there, Buck. Probably would sleep better here cuddled with Mister Star Spangled Pissy. Now… let me work and think. I’m tired and I don’t want to make a mistake.”

Clint finished the assessment of the jet within fifteen minutes, checking the fuel gauges and performance reviews. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could tell. He opted to sit on the bridge, head between his knees as he waited. He was feeling a little sick to his stomach but he knew it was a mix of pain and nerves.

“Ready?” Clint got to his feet and smiled. Bucky held out a pot of coffee. “If I remember correctly, you like it straight from the source.”

“Is this your way of offering a peace treaty, because I’m taking it,” Clint warned, taking the pot of coffee from him with a grin.

“I don’t particularly want to fight with you anymore, Barton,” Bucky replied, walking onboard. He stored their bags. “I just want to understand whats going on so I can figure out how to better help you the next time this all happens so we don’t fight.”

“Truce then,” Clint said. “Steve still pissy?”

“He isn’t happy, no,” Bucky answered slowly. “But he did eat a cupcake so… eh?” Clint took a drink of the coffee in the pot. “And that is going to take some getting used to. You are human, right?” he asked.

“Yeah- just part of my charm, Barnes,” Clint replied with a wink. “Alright- let’s go to Iowa.”

“I thought you would like Iowa… Hawkeye,” Bucky smirked.

“Awww, football reference,” Clint laughed. “That is a perk I guess.”


	16. Welcome home?

The closer they got to the safehouse, the more on edge Clint felt. Steve wasn’t wrong- Clint thought the timing of the call was weird, but Fury was right- Clint knew exactly where he was going. Clint wanted to blame it on his disliking of the house plus all the coffee, but he still felt uneasy. The quiet, easy chatter fell through when they were an hour out, and now the air felt thick.

Clint checked the area out from the sky before landing the quinjet. He turned everything off and got up slowly. Bucky looked like he was thinking the same as Clint. They wordlessly got up and headed for the bridge before Bucky gently grabbed Clint’s good shoulder.

“Stay here, let me scout it first,” Bucky suggested.

“Not going to happen,” Clint answered. “Senior officer here, I outrank you. We go in together, we stay close. I want to check something out first before we go. I saw something from the sky.”

“Something bad?” Bucky had asked.

“Just… something.”

It was hard to tell from the sky if something looked bad. He had sharp eyes, but he was tired and not at the top of his game. He grabbed a small handgun to carry with him before departing. He headed towards the access road and crouched down, touching the dirt. Bucky did the same and Clint watched his shoulders pull up. There were tracks and they were fresh.

“Someone has been here recently,” Bucky muttered. “Clint, you need to stay in the jet- let me handle it.”

“I know the house like the back of my hand, Buck. It’ll be easier with both of us,” Clint argued.

“You said you’d sit it out,” Bucky countered. “Look- I’ll bring out the communication system I borrowed from Steve. You switch your hearing aids over. I’ll be in constant contact. If I don’t respond within five minutes, feel free to come in and rescue me.”

The feeling in his stomach didn’t settle- he didn’t like this plan. Clint wasn’t one to sit things out. But he sighed and nodded. “Alright- yeah. Go. I’ll stay in the jet- but every five minutes you better check in or respond, Barnes.”

Clint didn’t feel any better with the idea as they checked the comms and he watched Bucky stalk towards the house. Clint looked at the familiar exterior with mixed emotions as he tried to focus on the job at hand. He didn’t have time for his emotions at the homecoming, not when there could be a threat on the inside.

As promised, Bucky checked back in as he performed his systematic sweep of the house. Clint scanned the outside, tried to see if there was a car hidden or anything. If there was, it was either out in the field or directly behind the house. Clint wanted to do the outside sweep but didn’t want to risk the fight. It was getting increasingly frustrating to sit there.

_“It’s clear. You can come in.”_

Clint walked towards the house, grabbing a downed tree branch as he went. It felt thick and sturdy between his hands. He climbed the front steps, stared at the almost familiar door, then pushed it open.

The inside was different, all clean and modern. The kitchen was small with a large living room. The sight lines were clean. Clint stepped through the first floor, doing his own scan. The bathroom was bigger- much cleaner. He trailed his hand along the unfamiliar counter, getting flashes of images that were no longer there.

“Clint?”

“Hm?” Clint looked up at Bucky.

“You okay?”

Clint swallowed and nodded, looking back down. “This place sure has changed a lot- kinda wonder what Barney would think about it.” He glanced at the mirror and looked at Bucky. “When my parents died, the house landed in Barney’s hands. He ended up not wanting the hassle for whatever reason, gave it to me. I hated this house, hated every moment of living here. So I signed it over to S.H.I.E.L.D. to be turned into a safehouse.”

“You grew up here?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Yeah, let’s call it that,” Clint replied. He took a deep breath. “If everything looks secure, let’s lock it down and get some sleep. Check out the bedrooms?”

“There are three. One down here and two upstairs,” Bucky answered. “I know you are going to hate this but-”

“I am guessing I get an upstairs one,” Clint said. Bucky nodded. “Yeah… figured that was coming. Alright. Deal. Why don’t you go grab the bags from the jet and I’ll check the computer system really quick in order to make sure everything will get us through tonight.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Clint went to a back room where the mainframe was kept. He sat down and logged in, checking everything. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the video feed was fine. He checked the internet, and while it seemed okay, it didn’t seem to be blocking any of the security protocols from the inside. Clint chewed his fingernails before he got up.

“Welcome home?” Bucky asked, holding Clint’s bag out when he came into the living room.

“Yeah, something like that,” Clint chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning, Barnes.”

Clint climbed the stairs, still restless. He checked the rooms himself. Everything was different and yet the same upstairs. The layout was fine, the rooms were cleaner, the floors more stable. Clint tossed his bag into Barney’s old room before he crept to his own. His jaw tightened as he touched the closet and opened it. He sat down inside the small closet, his knees pulling up to his chest.

He knew it was stupid but he stayed there for a bit, ignoring the pain in his legs and hips as he looked around the tiny closet. He could still remember all the times he hid in there, the times his father found him, the times he didn’t. He could remember the closet being so much bigger than it was now. Clint rubbed his face and looked up, letting out a small, breathy chuckle. Whoever painted didn’t sand first because Clint could still make out the small initials on the underside of the shelf. C.F.B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the next few chapters are going to be a bit short-ish. I couldn't figure out a good way to bridge them to make them longer. Anyway! I hope you enjoy.


	17. Chapter 17

_Clint couldn’t stop shivering, his breath coming out in little puffs of air. His joints felt frozen, his fingers painful when he made his fist. He was desperate for water but too scared to ask for something to drink in case it was drugged. He hadn’t felt fear like this since he thought he was dying- he couldn’t remember being so cold since he was dying either._

_The door cracked open and light flooded the cell he was kept in. He jerked against the shackles in defiance. He wasn’t going to make this easy- Clint didn’t know how to take the easy road anymore. The light became obscured by the person who was holding him captive and he felt his heart quicken when he saw the bright blue eyes._

_“Fighting only makes it hurt more, Agent Barton.” That sickenly sweet voice, dripping with fake kindness as it came out as a hiss made Clint flinch. “I could give you anything you have ever wanted if you just relax and make this easy.”_

_Clint just stared, wearing that lopsided grin of defiance that he learned to hide behind. He saw the tip of the staff duck down, saw the jagged ends. He leaned back away from it, but it only came closer until it pierced into his chest, dragging down. Clint closed his eyes and tried to focus. He didn’t want to go, to feel numb and powerless._

_“This is going to happen with or without your compliance. You can’t stop this- you are just a human afterall.”_

Clint felt something grab his arm and pin it down. Clint gasped and pulled his feet up, planting them firmly on someone’s chest and shoving them back. He rolled through with the motion to get to his feet, swaying and wincing as something in his side pulled. He saw a hand and grabbed the arm, twisting it and trying to find the upper hand. Instead, he felt the maneuver getting turned around on him and his legs hit the bed and he fell back, his head bouncing off the wall. Clint grabbed the back of his head, protecting his neck and waiting.

Clint opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light that was flooding the room from the doorway. He saw something metal, then fingers and-

“Door- close the door,” Clint managed. He could feel his voice shaking. 

He slowly pulled himself up to sit, pulling a knee up and resting his forehead against it. He felt his hands trembling and he closed them in fists. When the light dimmed, he started to feel a little better. He was warm- he wasn’t pinned down by anything, he could move freely- the blue eyes weren’t the same. He just needed to breathe and focus.

He felt a hand touch his leg and he jerked away. “No. Not yet.” The hand disappeared and he took a shaky breath. Even out, Hawkeye. You are safe. It’s Bucky- you know Bucky.

He gave himself a few minutes before he leaned to the side, his hand clutching his hearing aids. He put them in, carefully looping them over his ears. The sound adjusted and he could hear his breathing coming out ragged still. He licked his lips and looked up at Bucky. He must have backed up, giving Clint more space, or afraid he would lash out again. Clint dropped his head back down.

“Shit, Barnes,” Clint muttered. “ ‘m sorry.” He rubbed his face.

“Nightmare?” Bucky asked.

“Awesome one,” Clint answered with a pathetic laugh. His heart was still rapidly beating and it was starting to hurt. “Give me- just give me a minute or two here.”

“Need me to do anything?” Bucky asked.

“No,” Clint answered.

He gave himself another minute to adjust before he went to the bathroom. His stomach knotted but he ground his teeth, determined not to throw up. He ran the water and splashed his face. It seemed to shock his system back enough to where his heart slowed and his hands started to stop shaking as much. He hadn’t had that particular nightmare in awhile.

After he dried his face and hands he walked out and looked at Bucky. “What time is it?”

“Pretty close to eight in the morning,” Bucky answered. “Bad storms all day. We might be stuck here another night.” Clint noticed how worried Bucky looked despite the casually way he leaned against the wall.

“Beautiful,” Clint muttered, scrubbing his face with his nails. “Stuck in hell house another day. Well- lets head in town first. Grab some food, bring it back. Then I can get to work on the internet system. Might have to call Stark if it’s complicated.”

“You going to be okay?” Bucky asked. “We can wait a little longer.”

“Naw, ‘m fine,” Clint lied, picking up the pants he wore yesterday and pulling them on over his hips before finding a shirt. “The earlier the better really. Before people come out. Unless you want a million and one photos. Growing up here… bet people will recognize me.”

“Alright then,” Bucky agreed.

The trip to and around the store was quiet at first, Bucky only talking about what food he wanted to buy to make. He obliged Bucky, letting him pick out whatever it was he was talking about; Clint was only half listening as he stayed stuck in his head a little while longer. 

Clint underestimated just how many people actually went grocery shopping so early in the morning. It was mostly older people, most noticing Bucky before anyone else. But occasionally someone Clint should have known came up, a kid or two in tow, wanting to talk. Clint smiled, trying to act like he remembered a Tina from third grade- or even Kevin from fifth.

Bucky at least seemed to be enjoying himself- listening to the stories. Some of them Clint actually remembered, mostly because it was the embarrassing shit he did as a child. Clint felt his face heat up when the story of how he pretended to pay attention for a full day when his hearing aid batteries had given out; it was only found out he had no idea what was being talked about when Clint was called on to read out loud, and his read lips wrong and started reading a paragraph from three people ago.

The short trip to the store ended up taking nearly two hours and Clint was starving, his head pounding from the lack of coffee. But he stood firm with a fake smile, took the photos, and tried his best to put on a brave face. Bucky was the one to finally break it to the people that they were actually on a mission and didn’t have much more time. While Clint didn’t enjoy the sort of lie, he was grateful to leave. Before they headed back to the house, Clint ordered two large coffees for himself, finishing one on the ride home. Bucky was mostly silent, Clint seeing the thoughts exploding but Bucky didn’t share; Clint wasn’t going to push.

“The dream… what was it?” Bucky asked as Clint made breakfast.

Clint didn’t bother to take his eyes off the bacon and eggs. “You don’t want to hear that story. Not a good one,” he answered.

“Do you always avoid the hard questions?” Bucky asked.

“Got me pegged,” Clint replied, plating the food. He wasn’t in the mood for this back and forth but he was going to make an effort to at least be civil about it. He walked over and held a plate out. “I don’t like to think about that particular one. So… pass.”

“I have them too,” Bucky said after a minute. “Usually it’s things I was forced to do. Things I can just barely remember. I don’t like being touched after them either.”

Clint smiled a little as he shoveled some eggs into his mouth. “Guess we are both messes,” he said. “Noted though. If I catch you having a nightmare, no touching.”

“Anything else I should know?” Bucky asked.

“Not that I can think of?” Clint replied. “Natasha knows better than I do- she deals with them when I first wake up and can’t really get my bearings. Bobbi used to too.”

“Bobbi?” Bucky asked.

“An ex- we got divorced awhile back though.”

“You have been _married_?” Bucky asked, his fork dropping.

Clint felt like he should be offended but he only smiled. “Hard to believe someone would want me, Barnes?” he asked. “Because ouch.”

“No- not that!” Bucky said quickly. “Just… Bobbi. And… you know.” Clint waited it out because he had no damn idea. “I didn’t think… gay marriage was legal…”

Clint stared at him then laughed. “Bobbi Morse. Barbara. Mockingbird. None of that rings a bell with you. Oh God,” Clint said, trying to catch his breath. He held onto his ribs and laid his head down, glancing up at Bucky’s red face. “Is _that_ why you were confused?”

“I didn’t want to accuse you of being gay but then you said Bobbi and married-”

“Accuse me of being gay?” Bucky snapped his mouth shut. “Calm down, Buckaroo. I don’t care what people think of my sexuality. I’m an equal opportunity dater really. Probably why I got the shit beat out of me once or twice.”

“Equal opportunity?” Clint was beginning to feel bad for the guy- this all was really something Clint was not good at explaining. Clint briefly wondered if he could get out of this conversation too before he decided he was in a little too deep.

“Awww, I don’t want to be the one having this talk with you,” Clint whined. “I already had to have the talk with Steve and that was weird enough.” Bucky looked so confused, his mouth hanging open. “Bisexual. Men, women- don’t really care. Love is love. Please don’t hit me.”

Bucky tilted his head, still as puzzled as before. “Why would I hit you?”

“I dunno- pretty sure gays and all that weren’t exactly well liked back in nineteen-whenever,” Clint replied. “I don’t really know you that well to know if you are a homophobe or not. And no offense, but your metal hand looks like it hits really fucking hard and I’m already sore enough.”

“Did you ramble like that when telling all that to Steve?” Bucky questioned, looking amused, which Clint took as a good sign.

“Not really- he had an internet article open about the gay pride parade in NYC open and was asking about it,” Clint answered with a shrug. “He seemed to think it was cool until he went and men in teeny tiny undies hugged him. Took it like a champ though.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling. “Teeny tiny undies?”

“It’s… a thing some guys do at Pride,” Clint admitted. “Not really something I get into. I had to wear short shit for the circus- not reliving those days.” Clint finished the food on his plate. “I’m shocked Kate didn’t tell you over the embarrassing photos in that box. There was one with me and her at Pride one year when all the west coasters came and stayed at my place for it.”

“If that was the one with the feather boa, she kinda had this smirk on her,” Bucky offered. “Guess she didn’t want to… whats the term?”

“Out me?” Clint asked.

“Sure.”

Clint watched Bucky as he seemed to mull over the new information. Bucky got up and took Clint’s plate quietly, going to the sink to wash all the dishes. Clint wanted to argue about it but decided to let it go. He pulled out his phone and frowned- no service, that’s weird. He shut it down and restarted it- maybe it had been awhile and it needed a break. Clint could understand that.

“I’ve got a question,” Bucky said hesitantly.

“Shoot.”

“Do you… think they will ever stop thinking Avenger events are set up to improve my-”

“No, Buck, stop,” Clint groaned. He slid his phone away from him. “I’m going to give you some Barton wisdom-”

“You have that?”

“You were _just_ asking me a question and now you are questioning if I have wisdom?” Clint asked, amused. “Bucky, you need to watch something other than the news. The media will drive you crazy. Take it from a guy who had to swallow that hard pill twice, not with the media but coworkers. You need to… start living for you and not what people say and think about you. People capitalize on negative shit and will use it to tear you down. And since it’s the media doing it to you, you need to ignore it. You’ll feel better.”

“You are telling me that people have done this to you?” Bucky asked, turning. Clint shrugged and nodded. “When?” Clint could tell Bucky didn’t believe him.

“When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I wasn’t exactly popular,” Clint answered. “And when…” He didn’t want to be thinking about this, didn’t want to say something where Bucky would ask more questions. “And when I made a huge mistake and people died because of it,” he explained vaguely. “I knew what they were saying behind my back, sometimes not even behind it. I learned that it was easier to not react, which probably wasn’t healthy, but I pushed myself more into my work. I had to get better so no one would question me again.”

Bucky looked at Clint and Clint was hoping that wasn’t pity because Clint didn’t want it. “Is that what you are doing?” he asked. “Right now with the team? Pushing yourself into work because something happened?”

It took a large effort in Clint not to flinch at the question. It was too close to home and he needed a way out. “The point is, Buck. You need to stop internalizing other people’s opinion of you and letting that make you who you are. Find your worth in something else. In the way you work, in the way you treat people- that’s how you are going to be happy again.” Clint was positive his therapist would have been impressed that he used the word internalized, even correctly; then again, his therapist probably would have been thrilled if he ever showed up to his set appointments.

Clint pushed back from the counter and made it to his feet. “I’m going to take a quick nap then I’ll work on the computer system. If the weather is good, I’d rather get out of here sooner rather than later if that’s alright by you.”

“Yeah, that works,” Bucky replied. 

He was still mulling something over, and it wasn’t settling well with Clint. The last thing he wanted was to have another heart to heart talk with Bucky. Especially when he looked soft when listening, not when he was putting the pieces together and figuring out Clint’s game. Clint made it to the couch and managed to knock his hearing aids out before falling asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Clint wasn’t like Tony- he wasn’t a complete computer god with complete knowledge on how to work the system to the T. But Clint was good at hacking into computer systems to get the details he wanted or needed, and he was more than capable of reconnecting an internet access. But when the internet seemed to be working fine, Clint was puzzled over the delay. He rerouted the wires, changed them out for new ones just in case. It seemed to be working just the same as before. He stuck a pen in his mouth, trying something different to see if it would help him think.

Clint knew something had to be off. Fresh tracks yesterday, internet that was working when he was told it wasn’t but it wouldn’t actually send messages out properly.. Clint was starting to get more on edge than before. He was missing something and he didn’t know what. He sat down and played on the system, trying to figure it out. His hand hovered over his phone, considering his options before he called Tony, but the call wouldn’t go through. Still no service. Waverly wasn’t that small of a town, he wasn’t that far out in the country, and the storms hadn’t gotten that bad yet.

It was the rumble of thunder that finally caught Clint’s attention. It was loud, ominous- but according to the security monitors, the skies were clear. Clint felt the hairs on his neck stand up and he shoved away from the desk. _Shit_. Someone had hacked the surveillance feed, timed it perfectly, and he was watching old footage. It was a damn distraction.

“Buck!” Clint shouted, darting out of the back room. “We need to go.” He paused in the kitchen, but he couldn’t see Bucky. “Buck? Bucky!” He felt the panic settle in. He missed something, something important and now he didn’t have a clue what he was up against. _Where the hell is he?_ Clint thought, coming into the clearing.

Something zipped by Clint’s head and he ducked down. He dove behind the kitchen island for cover and looked at the tiny dart sticking against the wall. Lucky miss. Clint slid across the floor and opened a cabinet, pulling out two knives. He needed to make the tosses count, which meant he had to be patient.

“Clint? What are you yelling-”

“Stay where you are!” Clint urged. “Someone is here. I almost got a dart to the neck.”

“Where?” Bucky asked. Clint could hear the change of tone- Bucky was alert and ready.

“Dunno- didn’t see ‘em,” Clint admitted. He needed a better vantage point- he had too many blindspots. “You’re in a secure place, right? No windows?” 

Clint didn’t remember opening the kitchen window, which then unsettled him more- someone had to have came into the safehouse while Bucky and Clint went in town, unlocked it. Now that it was dark- they were using that to their advantage. The person was smart, which meant it had to be someone with higher connections somewhere.

“Got a plan in mind yet?” Bucky asked.

“Not a clue,” Clint admitted.

“You trust me?” Bucky asked after a moment of silence.

“I already hate this,” Clint warned him. “What’s the plan?”

Clint saw Bucky emerge from his secure location and Clint swore. _Is he trying to get us killed or captured?_ He tracked the path of the dart for a moment, then sprinted across the kitchen. He saw just enough of the man to throw one knife and cover Bucky before he felt something pierce his neck.

“Fuck.” Clint ripped it out of his neck, his legs going wobbly. He felt Bucky move before he dropped down to his knees, his vision swimming. He could just barely make out the sounds of a scuffle, heard some shouting, but he was losing out fast. He laid down and squeezed his eyes shut.

If this was part of Bucky’s plan, it was a shit plan.

\----

Clint felt hot and cold at the same time and he knew he was sweating. He needed to assess what was going on before he opened his eyes, but the feeling of metal cuffs on his wrists was making him panic. He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes. The jet- all he needed to see was the ceiling and he knew he was on the Quinjet. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“I’ll take those off if you don’t try to kill me again.”

Clint turned his head and saw Bucky on a chair opposite of the bench. Clint groaned and looked away. “Fucking awful plan, Barnes. I feel like vomit.”

“I need you to coach me on how to fly this jet.”

“You’re not flying my jet,” Clint growled, though it came out quieter than it should have. “You’ll pull a Steve and try to crash it.” Clint rolled his head back. “Uncuff me. I’m going to be sick.”

“Going to hit me again?”

“Bitch, I might,” Clint muttered. His stomach was killing him. “You didn’t even attempt to take me to a hospital?” 

“Did you die?” Bucky asked, removing the handcuffs. “I got the information I needed from the piece of shit before I killed him. You’ll live. Nice throw by the way- impressive.”

Clint rolled off the bed and staggered to the bathroom before vomiting. He pressed his forehead against the tile as he laid down and tried to curl up. He gasped and sprawled instead. None of this was ideal anymore. He just wanted to go home, sleep all of this nightmare off. Maybe request a week vacation from all this and get himself back together, back to standard working order.

He felt something cool touch his cheek and he looked up at Bucky and the bottle of water. He took it and slowly sat up, taking a sip. He reached out and put his hand on the toilet to keep himself steady.

“I’m not going to crash the jet. Grab a bucket- we are leaving before the weather turns worse,” Bucky explained. “I already called Fury, he is sending a different team here to reexamine. I couldn’t confirm who the man worked for.”

“Couldn’t or didn’t?” Clint asked, turning and vomiting one more time for safe measure. Bucky was behind him, rubbing his back.

“Does it matter?” Bucky asked. That was more than enough of an answer for Clint.

“Naw, guy is dead,” Clint mumbled, getting to his feet. “If… you tell Steve or Tony about this, I am going to shoot you. Carry me.”

“What?”

“You heard me Barnes,” Clint said, glancing over. He looked stiff, unsure. “Everything hurts, I feel like shit, room is spinning thanks for your beautiful plan. Carry me to the damn copilot seat.”

“God, you are going to whine the whole way back about the dart, aren’t you?” Bucky asked though he complied. “And why do you have to be so damn tall?”

“Well fuck me, Barnes, I didn’t get a choice when it came to my height,” Clint mumbled, resting his head against Bucky’s chest. “It's almost like the time Bobbi was slowly poisoning me to get me to build tolerance to the damn thing. Or the time Natasha actually did drug me on accident.”

“I want to hear about both of those stories,” Bucky requested as he walked to the cockpit. He settled Clint into the chair and strapped him in before leaving. He came back with a bucket and put it between Clint’s legs.

“Alright, how do I drive this thing?” Bucky asked.

“Switches seven, four, and three all need to be turned on first, followed by eight and one,” Clint said. Bucky looked over with a ‘what in the hell’ look on his face. “I didn’t make the design or label the damn thing, don’t gripe at me. Just do it. Seven, four, three then eight and one.”

“What happens with switch two?”

“Dun worry about switch two, you don’t need switch two,” Clint answered. It was more like Clint didn’t want to deal with teach Bucky how switch two worked; it was complex and Clint was already forming a huge headache.

Bucky followed the instructions as Clint gave them. Clint could see his knuckles turning white from gripping too hard. He even suggested flying and Bucky wouldn’t dignify that with an answer. Clint reached up and turned on some of the radios in case Fury or someone tried to patch through the mainframe.

“You know I wouldn’t have let them shoot you with a dart if I thought it would kill you, right?” Bucky asked, loosening up more when they were in the air and Clint had the autopilot programmed. “They wanted to specifically take us in, not kill us.”

“Comforting, Barnes,” Clint mumbled. “You’re not the one with a puke bucket between your legs right now, if I’m not mistaken.” Clint felt another sea of nausea strike and he pulled the bucket up to his lap. “And Fury? Did he really send us there or did someone actually hack S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Fury confirmed he did send us there, though he claims he had no knowledge of someone in wait,” Bucky answered. “Though Coulson politely said that as soon as we saw those tracks we should have known to back out.”

Clint snorted. “Right. Because it’s impossible another agent to have stopped there, or even Barney.” Clint leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t look anymore without feeling sick. “I’m hot and cold. I’m sweating and gross.”

“I can knock you out if you think that will help.” It was so perfectly innocent when said and Clint could just picture the strain on Bucky’s face as he tried not to smirk. _Bitch._

“I hate you,” Clint muttered before he took another sip of water. “Got any coffee?”

“No stimulants, Clint,” Bucky answered. “I don’t know if it would mess with the chemicals in the sedative.”

“Ugh- need coffee.”

“Getting real tempted to knock you out,” Bucky sang.

“Tell me a story.”

“No.”

“But Bucky,” Clint whined, looking over. “I dun feel good. Make me feel better. Story.”

“Do you do this to Natasha?” Clint nodded. “And she lets you get away with it?”

“I normally fall asleep somewhere near the middle every time,” Clint answered. He reached down and started to unbuckle. He saw Bucky move and he held his hands up. “Calm down. I’m moving to lay down for the next three hours. Wake me when we get close and I’ll walk you through how to land this thing. But if I fall asleep buckled in it might not be pretty for either of us.”

“Nightmares.”

“Exactly,” Clint confirmed, standing. He headed towards the back and laid down; it wasn’t comfortable in the least but at least it made the nausea go away.

“By the way- not even mad,” Clint called to Bucky as he pulled the world’s most scratchy blanket over himself. “We’re alive, that’s all that matters. But man when Coulson finds out, he is going to be bitching up a storm about making better choices and blah blah blah.”

“Thanks for not being too mad. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better, Barnes. I don’t let people drug me without a date first,” Clint said through a yawn. Clint heard Bucky mutter “disturbing” before he fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Clint was confused when he wasn’t woken up by someone shaking him. He rubbed his face and stretched, whimpering. He sat up slowly and looked around the jet, the lights dimmed and nothing vibrating. _Why are we stopped?_ he wondered. His fingers sprawled out to his sides before they found his hearing aids. He pushed them in his ears and slowly got to his feet.

“Bucky?” he asked. He could feel something was wrong. He let his eyes adjust more then moved about the jet. _Where the fuck are we even?_ Clint got to a computer screen and tapped a few buttons. Minnesota- but that didn’t make sense- his coordinates shouldn’t have taken them over that state.

When he reached out to touch the screen again he saw a thin line of blood on his finger. He jerked his hand back and inspected his hand. Something had cut him along his palm. He reached up and switched his comm system on, but all it got was a weird feedback. In fact- now that he was noticing it, he couldn’t hear anything. He pulled his hearing aids out and flipped them over, confirming the batteries hadn’t yet died. _What the hell is going on?_

Clint felt something metal on his wrist and it took a moment before he realized it was a hand. That didn’t stop him from reaching back to grip Bucky’s arm though. It was a tense moment before he turned and winced; Bucky had a gash on his head, sloppily patched up, but there was blood soaking through. Clint could barely make out a few bruises that were forming as well. Bucky went to say something, Clint could feel the heat from his breath, but Clint couldn’t make it out, it was too dark. 

_I can’t see your lips moving_ Clint signed out of instinct.

Bucky slowed down his speech, barely enough for Clint to catch some of it.. “--- don’t--- sign.” Clint knew he was whispering, which wasn’t helping with reading his lips. “--- attacked--- turn around---- so I crashed.”

Clint nodded. It was something he could work with at least. He held a hand up and went to their stored cargo. It took some digging but Clint at least found a utility belt, looping it over his hips. He squeezed in a few small explosives, a few knives, and a gun. He wanted his bow but he knew that was going to be hopeless.

Clint walked back. He didn’t know how to talk without making a sound anymore- he wasn’t sure he could manage it if he tried. Clint needed to think this through but his head was killing him. He pointed to the cockpit and walked. He just needed to see outside, get an idea of where he was and what he had to work with. 

The front window had one crack, which was troublesome. If Clint could manage to get the jet in the air, he wasn’t sure the pressure wouldn’t spread the crack and shatter the front panel. There were trees, a lot of them, and he figured they had to be in bear country then, towards the north, so finding help could be a little difficult. GPS would likely be down if they were too far in the backcountry. But none of this explained why his hearing aids got knocked out.

Clint sighed and walked back to the computer, scanning it before he found something he could use. _Tell me everything_ he typed in. _What happened? Any idea who was tracking us? Did you get a signal out?_

Clint moved and checked a storage bin as Bucky worked. There was water, which was good. He had to settle for that and some medicine, desperate to kill the headache. He found a few protein bars that he always had stored away and ate one before Bucky got his attention.

_We made it just outside of Iowa when two jets came up. It clipped a wing. I turned it around and made it this far. I don’t know who they were, the jets were unmarked. I sent out a message two hours ago, but we had moved here before I could get another signal out. The message was closer to lower Minnesota maybe? Everything went dead at touchdown. I tried to wake you up, but it wasn’t happening. Had me a little worried._

The severe lack of details worried Clint more than anything. Unmarked could be any number of possibilities. HYDRA, AIM- they were too far inland for it to be a jet from a different country, unless Canadian, but that didn’t make sense. It could be someone else who had a grudge against any Avenger or S.H.I.E.L.D. for all Clint knew. But for it to happen early in their departure- someone had to be trailing them, which meant they didn’t have a lot of time before whoever it was found their crash site.

_Pack what you can- find warm clothing. We need to move and get away from the jet._ Clint looked at Bucky.

_Can you make it? Could be a lot of hiking._

Clint could only shrug. He had no idea if he could make it, but he had to try. He pulled out his bags that he always kept in the jet and started to narrow it down. He needed to remove any data he could from the mainframe that S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t want to get out. He needed to downsize, carry only what he was going to need: no change of clothing, plenty of water, food, and a purifying system in case the hike took longer than he intended.

Clint dug through one bag before he smiled; he could cry from how happy he felt. He took out his hearing aids and put in the spare pair. The batteries had to be low but it was something. He turned them on and he could hear footsteps.

“Good news- spare pair for the win,” Clint whispered.

“Whats the plan?” Bucky asked quietly, coming up to Clint. “We can’t just walk around the wilderness blindly.”

“The computer said we landed near the border of Canada. So we have to head south, because there aren’t many cities up this way,” Clint explained. “At some point we will run into something town-y, and then we can get a call out with our location. I hope you like the cold, Barnes, because it’s going to be cold.”

“Can’t you get this in working order enough to send out an SOS?” Bucky asked. “We at least have shelter.”

“You said two jets. We were being followed,” Clint answered. “You want to wait around for whoever it was that shot us down? Because I don’t. I can’t even draw my bow back right now. And while I’m not opposed to shooting bad guys with a gun, I’m not exactly well armed in that department. Are you?” Clint watched as Bucky’s face fell and he closed his eyes. “We can do this, Buck. We just need to take the leap.”

“And what if-”

“Stop.” Clint held his hands up. “I know this is new and scary. You haven’t had time to adjust yet. I _know_ that. But we can’t sit around and go through every scenario. I’ll leave a message on the jet in case friends find it. I’ll try to wire my phone to get a stronger signal, try to pull in enough to place a call. But once these batteries give up, I’m in the dark again. I want to find _something_ before that happens and I’m partially useless.” Bucky opened his mouth to argue. “No, no arguing. We need to go. Argue about the semantics later, Barnes, we got plenty of time.”

Clint pulled on a jacket then grabbed a first aid kit. “Let me check your head and-”

“I heal fast,” Bucky interrupted. “Give me that, I’ll put it in my pack.”

“Whatever you want,” Clint said.

Clint double checked his equipment before he pulled the backpack on. He scrunched his face at the added pressure to his shoulder and back, jolts pain starting to radiate outward. His head started swimming again and he leaned over, feeling the nausea coming back. This was a bad plan- he wasn’t going to make hiking. Not like this. Clint felt himself deflate instantly.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered before he let the pack fall from his shoulders and he sank down.

“Clint?”

“Can’t do it- not going to make it,” Clint muttered. He laid back down and stared at the ceiling of the jet. He needed a different plan and his head wasn’t cooperating.

Bucky sat down next to him and sighed. “So we stay.”

“ ‘m sorry.”

“I’m the one who let you get shot with a damn dart,” Bucky said, crossing his legs and holding his head.

“It’s not that- it’s everything else,” Clint admitted. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his head. “This is on me, this is my fault. I should have told Fury no. I _knew_ if something happened while out that I wouldn’t be able to help. I’m useless.” 

“Stop saying that,” Bucky said sternly.

“No, it’s true, okay?” Clint groaned. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._ “I’ve been throwing myself at anything and everything to avoid anyone and everyone. I keep getting hurt. And now I got us in a bad spot and I can’t figure out how to get us out of it. I am _failing_. And if it was failing on my own, I could handle that. But I’m failing with you here, and that I can’t handle. I can’t drag you down with me on this one.”

Clint knew he needed to calm down, that he wouldn’t be able to think straight if he got upset. But everything felt like it was crashing down all at once; all the mistakes and misfires from the past two months. And if it wasn’t the mental mind games taking a toll on him, it was the physical. He had messed up and now he was in a spot where he couldn’t make a mistake. It was suffocating and he had to try to get it under wraps.

“I am the one who crashed the jet, I am the one that failed,” Bucky said. “If someone comes, we will handle it then. Still think you can wire the phone or something to get some sort of signal? Or get the jet up and running?”

“The crack in the front panel could shatter, it would be a risk,” Clint explained. “I can try to get us a stronger signal. Tony explained it to me once.” Clint opened his eyes and looked over at Bucky. “Hey, whatever happens, if things start to-”

“No.”

“-go south then you need to-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-run.”

Bucky looked pissed at the suggestion. “You want me to agree to leaving you behind?”

“Come on, Buck, it’s nothing personal, it’s for work,” Clint argued. “If someone comes, I can’t run, not far at least. You can. Last thing I want to do is drag you down with me, especially if it is HYDRA.”

Bucky was steaming he was so mad, a glare settling in; it was ‘if looks could kill’ glare that would unnerve anyone. Clint looked away- his own emotions were too raw and heavy right now. He was not going to let someone take Bucky again, that much he knew. He didn’t care how he was going to accomplish that task, his mind wouldn’t click into place fast enough for a solid plan; Clint just knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Bucky was recovered by the wrong people.

“Catch your breath and get your ass up and figure out how to get us out of this mess, Barton,” Bucky snapped, unfolding himself and getting to his feet. “But we are in this together, until the end. You got that?”

Clint rolled to get on his stomach then slowly pulled himself up. The sedative was still working somehow, that or he hit his head on the crash. He stumbled over to the storage and started digging. He pulled out the kits for the computer system and grabbed a chair, getting to work. Clint knew the process was going to be slow going as he looked at all the different supplies, not having a clue what some of them did; to top it off, he was out of steam.

_Okay Barton, you can do this. You have been through worse shit and pulled it off. And this is your jet. You know these systems. You just need a work around._ Clint took a deep breath, tried to calm down the shaking in his hands which wasn’t going to help the process along any.

“Barton.” Clint looked up at Bucky, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. He was much gentler, more calm; Clint could see how upset he was under the surface but Bucky was trying to push it aside. It hurt to watch. “I know you are having a moment. An extended bad moment. A bad month or year or whatever. But the last thing I would use to describe you is useless. Whatever insecurities you are having about all of this? Put that energy into the task. Get us out of this, okay?”

Clint nodded and looked back down. “I’ll do my best.”

“You always do.”


	20. Chapter 20

Clint worked for hours, tampering with the computer system. He needed the system on in order to make adjustments, but playing with live wires without gloves was dangerous. All it took was one zap before Clint shut the whole thing down and ducked his head between his knees. He was outside his knowledge base, he was sick still, and his nerves were fried. Anytime he heard a noise he flinched, waiting for them to be taken over by whoever could be following them.

He at least convinced Bucky to take a nap; it involved a lot of shouting and a lot of being pathetic on Clint’s end, but Bucky was at least asleep. Natasha knew the game, she fought back, but Bucky hadn’t learned the manipulation part behind Clint yet. Not that Clint used it on teammates often, that was a huge line Clint rarely crossed, but he wasn’t above trying it out if he needed to; and Clint needed the guy to sleep. Bucky looked peaceful, and Clint hoped it would relieve his nerves so at least one of them could think properly. One of them needed to be alert, might as well be the guy who was fully operational.

Clint got up and walked the jet. He needed a break, to catch his breath, let his mind reset. He was missing something stupid, something easy, and he couldn’t figure out what. He shouldn’t have thrown the manual out of the Quinjet so boldly a few years back.

Clint rubbed his wrists, trying to warm himself up. The jet was finally losing it’s heat and the cold was settling in his bones. He was getting stiff. He was going to have to risk fuel supplies at some point just to get some warmth back in the jet, which would alert people to where they were. It was a complicated mess. Clint grabbed one of the blankets and hugged it around himself, pacing to get warmed up for a few minutes.

Clint sighed and sat back down. He started checking the wires again, replacing one that looked just a hair kinked. He took a deep breath and held it as he turned the computer system back on. He waited, watching the screen. Come on, come on, give me this win. He almost sobbed when the system got signal, but lost it before he could get out a whole message. Clint got up and started pacing again. It should have at least sent out a ping, and if S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for them, they would have seen the ping flicker on before giving out. It would take a few hours, but they would come. He just needed to wait it out.

He looked back to the front panel window, at the tiny crack. He could risk it- he could try to at least get the quinjet in the air high enough to bypass the trees and land it somewhere closer to a signal. If Bucky watched it and sent the message quick enough it could be the break they needed. But if it was under too much stress- Clint wasn’t sure Bucky would agree with the plan.

Clint heard something outside the jet. He froze then tiptoed to Bucky as quickly as he could, giving him a shake. He couldn’t hear anything clear enough, the batteries on his backup aids slowly dying.. He gave Bucky another shake when he heard the same noise, but louder.

Bucky was on his feet almost instantly, looking towards the back hatch. Clint watched Bucky who started to square up. Any plans Clint had were out the window and he raced to think of something. He looked around- this was his jet, damn it. He knew it top to bottom. He had to have something to work with, something to give them some element of surprise.

“I’ve got a plan,” Clint said. It was at least something, it was workable.

“A good one?” Bucky asked.

“Naw, a shit one, but it’ll work,” Clint said. “I need help. Move this racking system.” Bucky nodded and moved it away from the center. “This hatch should drop down to ground level. It’s a ten foot drop. They are going to be getting in here whether we like it or not.”

“I’m not liking this plan,” Bucky commented.

“As soon as they get the bridge hatch open, they are coming in,” Clint said. “You need to time it just right. Drop down and take out as many outside as you can.”

“And you will be…?” Bucky asked.

“Barton Rule number two. When Barton yells ‘catch me’, you catch him,” Clint muttered. “I’m blowing this thing up.”

“Barton!”

“What? It’ll take them out, right?” Clint asked. “I’ll drop down. I promise, alright?” Clint urged. “You drop down, take some out. I set the explosions, use my exploding arrow to set them off. I drop down. You catch me then run like hell.”

“We run like hell,” Bucky corrected. “I said I’m not leaving you behind. Remember that?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, come on, just get ready,” Clint said.

“You die and I’m going to leak those circus pictures online,” Bucky threatened.

Clint snorted and grabbed some of the mini explosions and set them along the ground, close enough for a chain reaction. Bucky was checking his ammo. Clint saw a flicker of fire at the bridge and walked backwards.

“Hey Barnes?” Clint asked.

“What?” Bucky asked, standing up.

It was a dumb idea, but Clint didn’t care. He grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him close and kissed him. It was too rushed, too rough for a first kiss, but he needed the reminder on what he might get if he stayed alive. That was as long as Bucky didn’t beat the shit out of him, but that was a future Clint problem. For the moment, it was enough to give him the boost he needed to push forward.

Bucky shoved him away. “No. You don’t get to pull that goodbye kiss bullshit. We are living,” he said angrily. “You got it?”

“I got it,” Clint grinned.

“And when we finally get back to the tower, you are going straight to medical. You are burning up,” Bucky added.

“Whatever you say, Buck.”

“And when you are cleared, we are taking a month long vacation and you are explaining the kiss. And all the other… stupid shit you do.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t need to be explained,” Clint chuckled. He heard a loud creak and it drew his attention. “Alright Buck- don’t fuck this up. We only got one shot at this.”

Bucky nodded and crouched, hand on the latch. Clint pulled his bow taunt, his shoulder screaming. He could feel something pulling and he just needed it to hold on just a minute or two longer. He took a deep breath and grounded his back foot, bought his hand back. He needed to make sure this shot counted because it was his only chance.

As soon as the bridge dropped down Clint heard people coming. Bucky opened the hatch and had dropped down, and Clint heard the gunfire. He counted it out- just needed a few more seconds to give them both a fighting chance.

Thirty seconds. Clint let go of his breath and let the arrow fly before he jumped down the hatch. He felt something tear in his shoulder and he gasped instead of calling out for Bucky. He scrambled to right his angle and hit the ground, the air rushing out of him. Clint struggled to take in a breath and coughed violently.

He then heard the explosion and relaxed on the ground, smiling. The heat was next, something welcoming for a change. Clint forced himself up and grabbed his arm. He glanced up in time to see a man rushing him and Clint dodged out of the way, reaching into his utility belt and grabbing a knife. Got one he thought cockily as he threw the knife and watched the man fall forward. Clint took another deep breath and coughed.

He saw Bucky turn and run. He paused when he got to Clint and said something and- _awwww, hearing aids, no. Bad timing._ Clint tapped his ear and Bucky ducked down at something that Clint didn’t hear. He felt something pierce his shoulder and his eyes widened. Bucky rushed forward, grabbed onto Clint’s waist and took off running. 

Clint reached down with his right hand and grabbed a gun from Bucky’s belt. His vision wasn’t the best, he saw a lot of splotches, but when he did see someone, he took the shot. Twice. Three times. Four. Clint couldn’t see anyone else when his eyes would focus. He tucked the gun back into spot and his arm went limp; he needed to remember to conserve energy and guns weren’t exactly light.

Bucky dropped him carefully. He was shouting, he looked more mad than he had ever seen Steve get. Clint smiled a little- he didn’t have a clue what Bucky was saying but somehow he looked cute as he was going off. He did catch one word- dying.

“Not dying,” Clint protested. “Just a scratch.”

“---damn--- my ass,” what was Clint got from Bucky. Clint wanted to laugh. This would be so much easier if more than just Nat knew sign language. Then again, Clint would have to watch Bucky angrily sign and that- Clint actually wanted that he realized. _Bad time for catching feels, Barton. Focus._

“--- and then--- kiss--- like an idiot,” Bucky rambled on.

“I enjoyed the kiss,” Clint said. Bucky paused, his face a weird mix of emotions. He was so angry, but Clint could see a hint of awe there and something else he hadn’t seen in awhile. Clint smiled a little. “I’d say we can try again but… you should make sure that I got them all in that explosion.”

“Asshole,” Bucky said. “Do--- die---- be right back.”

“Not dying, too stubborn to die,” Clint answered. “Hey, if one of the fire retardant blankets survived… I love you.”

Bucky waved a hand at Clint and started trekking back to the jet. Clint took as deep breath before he coughed again. It had to be a cracked rib or four. He didn’t know what exactly he did to his shoulder, aside from getting shot, but the pain was starting to make him ill. Clint closed his eyes. All of that seemed like a future Clint problem. Current Clint just needed a nap.


	21. Chapter 21

Clint enjoyed waking up warm. His cheeks were freezing but his body was warm. He groaned and opened his eyes to figure out his surroundings. The woods still. He felt a dull throbbing on his shoulder as it pressed against a warm body, Bucky’s warm body. His ears felt like shit- hearing aids must be in still. He was going to have to teach Bucky to pull them out.

“How long I been out?” Clint asked. He felt three taps on his leg. “So… rescue should be here soon, hopefully,” he commented. He wiggled a little, settling in tighter. “One yes, two no,” he warned Bucky. “Understand.” One tap.

There was so much he needed to go over. “HYDRA?” he asked. One tap. “How many about?” Bucky had to think, was probably counting in his head. He ended with seventeen. _Impressive._ “You okay?” There was hesitation again. Two taps. Clint felt his heart stop for a moment. “Got shot?” he guessed. One tap.

Clint went to move and Bucky squeezed his thigh. Clint wanted to check, see where, see if he could help. Bucky’s finger started to move and Clint closed his eyes. Spelling.

_ M.E.T.A.L. A.R.M. C.A.N.T. M.O.V.E. N.B.D._

Clint laughed. “Whoever taught you no big deal is my hero.” Clint relaxed a little, got comfortable again. “You mad at me?” Two taps. “Are you lying?” One tap. Clint groaned. “ ‘m sorry.”

_I.D.I.O.T._

“Agreed,” Clint replied. “You know the worst part about this? There were five more protein bars on that jet that got burned up and I’m hungry.” Clint felt Bucky dig his fingers into Clint’s thigh. It helped settle Clint a little, it was grounding him. “I’m sorry, Barnes, y’know? Things haven’t been the same for awhile and I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

_Y.O.U. B.E.T.T.E.R._

Clint felt the wind pick up then felt Bucky tense. He looked up at an black jet and scanned it. He smiled a little. “Looks like we got friends,” he commented. “Come on, help me up.”

_W.A.I.T. T.R.A.P._

Clint complied. Bucky could be right, it could be a fake S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol he supposed. Clint pressed his cheek into Bucky’s shoulder. “Kiss- you mad?” The hesitation was killing him. Clint was prepared for the let down. Even if Bucky was into men, Clint figured he would be into Steve- who wasn’t into Steve? Clint felt two taps on his leg and he tried not to get too far ahead of himself.. “Still want that vacation?” One tap. Clint smiled a little, watch the black jet disappear into the forest.

_K.E.E.P. T.A.L.K.I.N.G._

Clint wasn’t sure what to say or why he needed to. Either Bucky was anxious and needed the noise, or he was afraid Clint would pass out again, or worse. Clint sighed. “You… asked about the dream, that nightmare,” Clint said, trying to break his own walls down, which was not an easy task. “So- there was this… 0-8-4, this cube. And while studying it, a man, well god, named Loki-” 

Something about not being able to hear Bucky made talking easier. He couldn’t hear if Bucky made a noise of disgust, or said anything that would be upsetting. Clint didn’t look at him even, not wanting to see any trace of pity or revulsion- he didn’t want to see what Bucky thought about him. But talking to Bucky specifically about that event was relieving, because if anyone was going to understand the psychological torture, it was him. Clint’s fingers rubbed Bucky’s outer thigh; Clint just needed them to stay warm and not stiffen in case the jet wasn’t someone they knew.

Clint must have drifted to sleep because he felt a nudge firmly against his face. Clint groaned and dug his face against Bucky’s shoulder, the friction warming the tip of his nose. _K.E.E.P. T.A.L.K.I.N.G._ It was a gentle reminder to stay awake. _B.E.F.O.R.E. B.A.R._ Clint didn’t think too much about it, just talked. At least this time he didn’t see green eyes while his eyes were closed- there wasn’t any haunting looks in his mind. He was aware that Bucky now was doing the same as Clint, rubbing his hand against Clint’s arm, trying to keep them both warm.

It was another hour before Clint recognized one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that came to the clearing. Bucky pushed Clint off enough to get up, walking to talk. Clint watched the interaction before Bucky came back to help Clint to his feet. The dull ache became a shooting pain when Bucky accidentally bumped Clint’s arm and he stumbled, certain he cried out from the pain. His stomach rolled and he fought back to urge to vomit. His vision went back to swimming again and Clint pitched forward.

\-----

Two days in medical apparently wasn’t torture enough. Two days of pretty much every Avenger yelling wasn’t good enough, not for Coulson and Fury. Steve was probably the angriest, stating multiple times how “I told you to stay”. Tony was more upset about the Quinjet it seemed, especially when Clint admitted to setting the explosives himself. Thor seemed mad in general at the idea, not particularly at him, but it was getting confusing in that room with all the chaos. The only one who didn’t seem mad was Bruce- he was only relieved to see everyone was back safely. 

Natasha was a different story. In front of the team, she defending him all the way, just like always. Then at night when everyone had gone it was a mix of shouting and the silent treatment. But it was _normal_ for them to do this. By the time both of them were tired, they were on the same page again. And being around Natasha, going through the checklist of questions- it made him feel sharper again, his mind clicking into place.

Clint had been released from medical just to be brought into a sideroom in the tower. He got yet another talking to by Fury and Coulson, which was starting to make him feel normal for a change; the feeling of failure somehow had slipped away the moment S.H.I.E.L.D. had picked the pair up. Clint thought part of it was the good news from Dr. Cho- he was going to be fine after several weeks on medical. He tore muscles in his arm, but nothing overly damaging. And while it was a bullet wound, it had mostly grazed the top edge of his shoulder. He was going to make a full recovery as long as he kept his arm in a sling and followed doctor's orders, only one scar to add to his collection.

Clint had to fill out forms, about a dozen of them. Then he got yelled at because they found out Clint was falsifying his vacation time again and had banked a total of six weeks behind their back. Which, to Clint’s defense, Natasha had done the same; both of them were surprised that Hill hadn’t figured out their scheme before now. So then he had to sign contracts about his vacation time and it’s usage, something about needing more training since “apparently it doesn’t stick.”

But none of that prepared Clint for what was waiting in the commonspace. He saw a message on his watch. _Avengers assemble in the commonspace._ Tony just wanted to say Avengers Assemble, which made Clint roll his eyes. Clint just wanted to shower and go lay in his bed, fall asleep to junk television. He caught the elevator and took it up. He was shocked that everyone was there before him, including Thor. Clint hesitated, feeling like a trapped animal. _Well, this can’t be good._

“Done getting a scolding?” Tony taunted.

“Fuck off, Stark,” Clint muttered, taking a seat in the only empty chair there was. He kicked his feet up just to annoy Tony further and relaxed.

“So, a lot to go over,” Tony said. “First one is- it’s October. You all know what that means.” Clint and Natasha both groaned. “Oh, excuse me, assassin twins. Am I upsetting you with the obvious?”

_Can I kill him?_ Natasha signed.

_I don’t know, he would be a hard one to hide_ Clint replied back.

“No, no sign language. You both are banned,” Tony commented, pointing a marker at them. “Anyway- it’s time for the semi-annual Avengers Gala. You know what that means, suit up and kiss up to the rich people of the world that come. Earn your keep. And for the love of god, no ties or shirts with bloodstains.” Clint ignored the small dig- it wasn’t his fault he literally owned one tie. “It happens in three days.”

“Three days?” Natasha asked angrily.

“Yes, and you know why?” Tony asked, his voice quick and sharp. Clint liked when Tony became frustrated- it was the best kind of payback since Tony was the most infuriating Avenger. “Last time I gave you and birdbrain warning, you both found a way to weasel out. Good luck this time.”

_Oh no, I bet I could hide his body_ Natasha signed to Clint.

_I would help you but I am grounded and not allowed to so much as lift anything over ten pounds. I had to sign papers_ Clint bragged.

Clint felt something bounce off his head and he looked at Tony. “What did I say? No signing.”

“Just learn to sign if it bothers you,” Natasha snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

“Calm down, Scary Spice,” Tony said. “Steve, I believe you had something to announce that Fury wanted to made perfectly clear.”

“As in don’t let Steve or Barnes fly a quinjet?” Natasha asked.

“Very funny,” Bucky muttered. Clint glanced over at Bucky, who only stared at Steve. Clint hadn’t seen him since the rescue and he was trying not to be hurt by that.

Steve stood up. “We are going to be a bit short staffed for two weeks,” Steve said. Clint instantly felt his stomach drop. _Oh no. Please no. Please don’t say it._ “The day after the gala, Clint and Bucky will be going on a two week vacation.”

“Oooh, Fury is Barton Ruling Barton now,” Tony laughed.

“And at the same time, Natasha and I will be on vacation,” Steve said. “Because the assassin twins, as Tony calls them, refuse to use their vacation time like adults, they need babysitters. And they can’t go with each other because of their last vacation.”

“What happened with that?” Bucky asked with a frown.

“Uh- we saved the day, that’s what happened,” Clint replied.

“You both came home and went straight on medical leave,” Steve said sternly. “They found out about a human trafficking ring near their location and dismantled it. But that one-” Steve emphasized, pointing to Natasha, “came back almost dead. And that one-” he said, jerking his thumb to Clint, “came back with a broken leg and pelvic bone.”

“It was an awesome vacation,” Clint said. 

Natasha grinned and leaned back, held a hand out, and Clint high fived it. He almost forgot about their trip to Charleston. Sure, they got hurt, didn’t relax like they was supposed to. And they definitely should have called to report their findings and waited for backup. But Clint and Natasha never did anything the easy way.

Steve looked at both of them with a critical eye before he sighed. He was now purposely not looking at either one. “While we are gone, the West Coast Avengers division will be here to assist in what we need.”

“Awww, no,” Clint whined. “I’m going to miss Katie-kate time. And Lucky time!”

“Oh, no, that’s where it gets better for you,” Steve said. The smile on his face was a little too cheerful for Clint’s liking. “After your two weeker with Bucky, you get one week in L.A. with them, not on mission but _vacation._”

“You have to take more vacation time than me,” Natasha whispered tauntingly.

“Why do I have to vacation more than Nat?” Clint asked in a whiny tone.

“Because you decided it would be fun to get shot in the shoulder?” Steve suggested. “Or partially tear a muscle or three in your arm?”

“Impressive,” Thor commented. “You are more than welcome, both of you, to come to Asgard.”

“Actually, Clint and Bucky will be focusing their travels around the United States,” Steve said. “Strategically, after Bucky was discovered to have aided a pregnant woman, there was a slight uptick in positive notes about him. Then more when a photo was released of the two of them walking back here together, but covered in blood and soot. And again when, congratulations by the way, the pregnant woman talked with the media and had a healthy baby boy- James Francis.”

Bucky looked absolutely shocked. Clint, however, stuck his tongue out. “Horrible name. She should have CPS called on her,” he commented.

“So, with their popularity being tied together closely right now, and with Clint having favorable public support- Coulson and Hill both think they could go on a roadtrip… let the public see the Avengers doing every day mundane things,” Steve explained.

“Lovely,” Clint muttered. “I’m not allowed to drive… and he crashed the jet. Barnes, you crash cars too?” Bucky didn’t take the bait, still looking stunned by the news.

“So- any questions?” Steve asked. “If not, dismissed because I am fairly certain Natasha is going to need to go shopping.”

“I hate you all,” Natasha said. “Barton, come on.”

Clint frowned for a moment before he grinned and got up. “Bye guys!” he chirped before he followed Natasha. He stood next to her on the elevator and waited for the door to be closed. “Please don’t yell at me- I’ve had enough-”

Natasha hugged him carefully. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” she whispered. “Twice in two months, Clint. No more missions without me.”

“Yeah, you got it,” Clint replied. He patted her back. “So, uh- I have a confession to make.” Natasha pulled back and stared at him. “I… uh… might have kissed Bucky Barnes.”  
Natasha stared at him before she sighed. “I cannot wait to hear this story on the way to the shops,” she muttered. “Before we go far in… am I going to have to kill him?”

Clint chewed his lip. “I… think he might actually like me to? It’s a long story.”

“Good thing we have a drive then,” Natasha said. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no self-control lol I told myself "No Brittany- one chapter a day. Spread this out a wee bit." And then I laughed, and laughed, read a few comics, sat back down, and posted another chapter. Anyway- enjoy! It's winding down now.


	22. Chapter 22

“Awww, buttons, no,” Clint whined.

Clint made the fatal mistake of snapping at Natasha when she asked if he needed help. _Of course_ he needed help, but he didn’t want to admit to it. For two days he needed help with stupid shit he should have been able to easily do but his mind wasn’t catching up with his body. His mind was too preoccupied with the kiss, the Avengers Charity Gala, and the three week vacation that he didn’t notice he forgot to turn the faucet off in the common space, flooding everything. He forgot he was holding a coffee cup and got coffee everywhere when he was told the kind of car Bucky would be driving for the two weeks. And now- now Clint regressed back to the age of two where he couldn’t manage buttons, and he was pretty sure Natasha was purposely ignoring his texts and calls.

Clint groaned and looked at the ceiling. “Hey J- can you ask Bucky to come up to my floor to help me with something?”

“Of course, Agent Barton.”

Clint at least managed to work his pants button on his own because that was not something he was prepared to ask Barnes’ help. It had been nearly a week since they had gotten back from the mission gone wrong, and Bucky had made himself scarce. Clint was trying not to take it personally- it was probably a lot for Bucky to process. Crashing a jet, dealing with Clint, keep them alive, then finding out a kid was named after him. But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt just a little; Clint thought he had made some major progress, opening up and talking and now… he was trying to determine if he made the wrong decision letting Bucky in on things.

“Clint?”

Clint didn’t want to stare, but Bucky made it so damn hard. His suit was blue, perfectly trimmed and pressed. His hair was pulled up in a bun, less messy than normal which meant someone had to have helped him with it. He looked sharp. _Be cool about it, Barton_ he tried to tell himself.

“I-uh… buttons,” Clint sputtered. “I can’t with these buttons.” _Smooth._

Bucky smirked and rolled his eyes before he walked over. Clint didn’t know his mind could work in slo-mo, but damn it was doing a good job of it. Bucky reached out, a glove over his metal hand, and started to work on the buttons. Clint stared at the glove before he looked back up.

“You should go glove-free,” he offered. “Everyone knows about the metal arm.”

“Doesn’t mean people are comfortable with it,” Bucky answered. “Need help with the belt too or… we good?”

“No but can you help with the tie?” Clint asked. Bucky nodded and looked at his choices before grabbing one, fitting it over Clint slowly. “I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide it because people are stupid.”

Bucky laughed and it was like before all the stress hit the team. It was one that hit from the gut and Clint felt his stomach turn to nothing but butterflies over it. “Stupid… very mature word to use there, Barton. Going to talk like that in front of high society?”

“As a dropout who didn’t even attend high school? Yep,” Clint answered with a grin.

“Look at you, brimming with confidence,” Bucky said, his lips twitching up to a half smirk. He shouldn’t look this damn good. “You should feel good about that- not everyone has your confidence level. Maybe someday I’ll get there.” Bucky pulled on the tie to straighten it before he took a step back. “How the hell did you find a purple sling?” he asked playfully.

“Had Tony make me one,” Clint said proudly. “I think he’ll shit himself if he sees me with it tonight. But you did match it to the tie so I mean- that’s fashionable, right?”

“Hold on,” Bucky said, walking to Clint’s kitchen before walking back out. “Do you have a marker?”

“Yeah, it’s in a box on the coffee table,” Clint answered.

Bucky went digging before walking back with a black marker. He leaned over and started drawing on it. “Steve would have done a better job than me but-”

Clint looked down. He drew an arrow, and Clint’s symbol right under it. Clint was a little more in awe than he should be before he regained his composure. “It’s fucking perfect, Barnes,” he said. Clint needed to take a step back before he took it somewhere he was pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t have wanted it to go. “Alright, don’t watch me. Pretty sure I am going to be tucking this shirt while looking like an idiot, then belt, then time to go.”

“Take all the time you need, doll,” Bucky replied, walking around Clint’s flat. _What did he just call me? Doll? What does that even mean?_ “You ever going to actually move into this place?”

“Uh- I am?” Clint asked. “I mean, mostly full time I am. I have clean clothes here.” 

“I meant put photos up, some art, make it your own,” Bucky clarified.

Clint was jumping around as he got his shirt tucked in. He walked to the bathroom to make sure it at least looked presentable before he walked back out, grabbing his belt. “I guess I never thought about it. Maybe though.” Clint did struggle a little to put his belt on, but he worked through it. “What about you? Wanting to stay here?” Clint asked.

“Still haven't worked that out myself yet,” Bucky replied. “Things have been too chaotic to think everything through. But… it’s getting better.”

There was a knock before Pepper walked into Clint’s flat. Clint raised a hand in greeting. “Hey Pep,” he said.

“Can I help you with your hair?” Pepper offered.

“What? Disheveled isn’t in?” Clint teased.

“Oh, it is, but you look like you rolled out of bed,” Pepper said. “Hello James,” she greeted as she walked over, fixing Clint’s hair as soon as he leaned down for her.

“Evening,” Bucky answered.

“Before you both go into the gala with everyone, there is someone here who wants to meet you both,” Pepper informed them. “Bella, her husband, their son is here. There is a small press release for this, don’t be alarmed.”

“So smile big,” Clint said, standing up straight when she was finished. “What do you say, Barnes? Want to meet our love child?”

“Please do not call it that in front of the cameras,” Pepper requested, her heels clicking as she walked. “James. The baby’s name is James.”

“Can I call it Bucky?” Clint asked as he stepped onto the elevator, Bucky following them in, nudging his side. Clint only shuffled a step away from him.

“You may not.”

“Awww,” Clint whined, nudging Bucky. “We should have suggested Clinton Buchanan. Then it could be Clint Bucky.”

“Did Kate name Lucky or did you actually come up with a good name?” Bucky asked, fixing his cufflinks. He was starting to look nervous.

Clint bumped into him again, but stayed pressed against him. “You got this, Avenger,” he whispered. “You’ve been through worse, Barnes. Just remember you got this.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered.

“Anytime.”

Pepper led the two down the hall and to a side room. Clint did his visual sweep, checking entry and exit points with a smile on his face. One reporter, one cameraman, and one holding an actual camera. But he was move than thrilled when he saw the woman in the middle. She was glowing, looking positively radiant as she stood next to a man around Bucky’s height and held a tiny little human in her arms.

“It is… so good to finally see you both in person again,” Bella started to say before she started to tear up.

“No, no, don’t cry, don’t ruin that makeup on us,” Clint laughed. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over. “You look stunning, Bella. Not being covered in soot suits you,” he teased, happy when he got a laugh.

“I just want to thank you both for what you did for my wife and child,” the man said. “I’m a firefighter in the city and I was working on the complete opposite end of the city when the robots came. I was a nervous wreck.” Clint shook the man’s hand, and Bucky started too before the man drew him into a hug. “I’d hug Hawkeye, but, uh, he looks a bit injured.”

“Just a ‘lil bit,” Clint admitted sheepishly.

“I am honored you named him after us,” Bucky said. “I was shocked when I heard the news.”

“Would you like to hold him?’ Bella asked all shy like. “He’s a good baby.”

Bucky looked completely nervous at the idea. Clint brushed his shoulder against Bucky’s. “I’ll hold him if I can do it sitting. I swear I won’t drop him,” he said eagerly.

“Of course!” Bella laughed. 

Clint felt two taps on his leg as he went to take a seat and smiled. A simple thank you, disguised from the cameras. He sat down and carefully held onto the little boy, looking down. “Oh man, you are big already,” he cooed.

“Any word of advice to the little man you both rescued?” the reporter asked.

Bucky stood over Clint and leaned down, looking at the little boy before he got a mischievous grin. “Whatever Clint says after me… do the exact opposite. He gives absolutely terrible advice.”

“Hey!” Clint laughed. “I was going to say… grow up and be like your father, like your mother. She’s a fighter, she worked hard for you, kid. And your dad- he’s the real hero. Fighting fires and all that? MVP.”

“Never mind, I take it back, do that,” Bucky said with a broad smile. 

“I have to give him back, don’t I?” Clint teased. “I kinda wanna keep him,” he added before Bella took him. “Seriously, he is adorable.”

“Thank you… so much,” Bella said.

“Anytime,” Bucky replied.

Clint stood with the family for pictures. He wrapped his good arm around Bucky’s back, trying to make sure the other man stayed calm through the flashes. He shook hands once again with Bella’s husband and lightly hugged Bella and said goodbye to little James before Pepper escorted them out to join the other Avengers in waiting. Clint wiggled his eyebrows at Steve before he winked. He came up behind Natasha and wrapped an arm around her.

“Sorry for being an ass earlier,” he whispered.

“I hope you had fun buttoning that shirt,” Natasha replied.

“Loads. You have no idea,” Clint muttered. He kissed her cheek before he took a deep breath.

Clint hated rubbing elbows with rich people, but he did it twice a year unless he could find a way out of it. This year was different though and Clint couldn’t help but grin. The normally demure event had changed into a Halloween wonderland, children coming in costumes. Stations were set up for candy, using a marker to draw on pumpkins, and decorate cookies and cupcakes. Unlike the normally stiff atmosphere that would suffocate Clint, the sound of laughter was abundant and for once he didn’t hate a Stark event.

The charities that were being showcased were all handpicked by the team, and each charity sent a representative and a guest to the event. Clint had met amazing people in the past through his charity of choice, 4 Paws for Ability, ranging from children to veterans. Clint was so overwhelmed with their work that he worked out a schedule with Pepper two years ago to help with events to raise money for the charity in his spare time.

Clint mingled for a bit, avoiding the alcohol like a good Avenger, and talked with whoever showed an interest. Unlike other events, Clint turned down dancing with the older ladies; he already had a busted arm, he didn’t need crushed toes as well. But when a few of the children came up and asked politely to dance- how was he going to say no? If they were small enough, he would pick them up and slow dance with them; if the song was fast enough he would do whatever it was the kid was doing, laughing and having a good time.

“Pepper!” Clint cheered, walking over. “Could have warned me the lineup had changed this year.”

“Tony thought in the spirit of it being Halloween time, and a few of the charities being children-centric, we would open the floor for parents to bring their children,” Pepper said. “And he might have thought that perhaps you would like the event a little more this way.”

“And yet we still couldn’t come in costume?” Clint teased.

“Having you dressed like Captain America, according to Tony, would ruin the poster boy’s image forever,” Pepper laughed. “Enjoy the event, Clint. You earned this one,” she said, kissing his cheek when he ducked down for her. “I hope you are feeling better.”

“Loads,” Clint replied. He saw a bashful little girl waiting out of the corner of his eye. “Excuse me, but I believe Queen Elsa is waiting for me.” He turned and knelt in front of the little girl. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my queen. How can I assist you?”

“Can you help me decorate a cookie?” she asked.

“Of course, Queen Elsa! Lead the way,” Clint said. He only smiled more when she took his hand to pull him along. He passed Tony on the way by and paused. “Excuse me a moment, my queen- I need to speak to the Iron Man.” The little girl giggled but went off to the station.

“I see you are enjoying yourself, Legolas,” Tony said with a smirk.

“Seriously, Tony, thank you,” Clint said. “This is… this is amazing.” Clint hesitated for a moment before he hugged him. “Soak it in, this isn’t happening again in your lifetime,” Clint whispered with a smirk before he patted Tony’s back.

“Whatever keeps you smiling,” Tony replied. “You better go help Elsa before she ices your ass off.”


	23. Chapter 23

It was the first day in a long time that Clint truly had a good time. He finally managed to get away from the kids table and scanned the room. Natasha must have already ducked out, which was not out of the ordinary. Tony and Steve were both in the same conversation, as well as Bruce was with Thor, who were very animated. Everything was pretty standard with the team.

And then there was Bucky. He was cornered by a little old lady, and while he looked charming, Clint could tell he was uncomfortable; his body had shifted away, his eyes kept darting up. Bucky caught Clint staring and gave him a weak smile. Clint smiled back and started moving across the room.

“Mrs. Donner!” Clint cheered.

“Ah! There you are, I thought you weren’t attending,” the old lady said. Clint leaned down and kissed her cheeks. “I was just talking to Mister Barnes, here. He seems like such a sweet boy.”

Clint laughed. “Oh, he is sweet alright,” Clint agreed. “He’s a good guy, Mrs. Donner. Always willing to help. Which is why I came over. I am so sorry, but I have to take Barnes with me.”

“Avengers business?” Mrs. Donners asked excitedly.

Clint chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Fortunately, no. It’s slightly embarrassing to admit but you see… my arm is in a sling and it makes certain tasks very hard for me to accomplish alone. Barnes has offered to lend a hand.”

_And that is what you get for being a little shit_ Clint thought as Bucky’s face blushed. 

“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Donner replied. “Do have a good rest of your night.” She reached up and patted Clint’s cheek before she walked.

“What was that?” Bucky didn’t look amused.

“Come on,” Clint said, tipping his head and walking. “This is me returning the favor and saving you from this party. We did our time.”

Bucky didn’t argue, just walked with Clint. Clint stuck to the outer edges of the room, hoping to sneak out, which was easier than it should have been. Clint navigated them out of the large room and to the end of the hall, piling into the elevator.

“Your floor or mine?” Clint asked.

“Yours.”

“You heard him, J, please,” Clint said as the doors closed. “So… first gala.”

Bucky nodded. He looked pensive at the moment. “First time in over a month that you looked genuinely happy. Probably first time since ever meeting you besides in that taxi you aren’t hiding behind a mask.”

Clint looked over at Bucky, his nose scrunched. “I’ve been happy since then,” Clint argued.

“If so, only for a flicker of a moment before things fell back into place,” Bucky countered. “You are a hard read Barton because since the day after the bar, you have had your guards up. Smiling, sure, but there was always that tension under the mask. What gives?”

This is why Clint hated talking- how was he supposed to properly explain to Bucky what was bringing him down when it was such a convoluted mess of emotions? It was hard to put into words how failing the mission just days before he met Bucky left him in a funk- how the man’s scared eyes stuck with him for days, that feeling of failure sinking into every fiber of his being. Clint couldn’t really explain how the fighting between teammates stressed him out more than anything because they were the only people Clint felt completely comfortable around. He couldn’t voice that his lack of hearing sometimes kept him up at night on missions because he was afraid he was missing something important and people would suffer from it. And then there were the nightmares-

“Sometimes… I internalize a lot of what I am going through to cope,” Clint said slowly. “And then I keep taking on new tasks, new missions, because having something to focus on is better than having to deal with other shit. Then when it finally catches up to me…” Clint had to stop himself, his chest was hurting. Why did talking have to be so damn hard?

“You know there isn’t a single person on the team who would view you as useless, or a failure, right?” Bucky asked. When Clint didn’t respond, Bucky nudged him. “Clint, come on. You know better than that.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” Clint answered. “I know that, okay? I know I have to slow down, that I’m only…” Clint was hating every moment of this. “I am not good at this part, Barnes. I’m not good at letting people close and talking about this.”

“Why?”

_Because people getting close is just one more person who could take me down._ “Because it’s hard to trust people not to take advantage,” Clint replied. “Do you have any idea how long it took for Tasha and I to get close?” he asked. “It’s why we are close. We have both done shit we aren’t proud of and we both only-”

“Have each other,” Bucky finished. Clint was thankful when the elevator opened and he could walk out. He was feeling suffocated all over again. “You can’t run from-”

“Just grabbing a beer, Barnes. Want one?” Clint asked. If he was going to be forced to talk about things, he could at least have a beer.

“I can’t get drunk.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to get wasted, I asked if you wanted a beer,” Clint corrected. “Three- two-”

“Sure, I’ll have a beer.”

Clint grabbed two before he walked back out to the living room. Bucky was already on the couch so Clint dropped down next to him, holding the two bottles out. “Please and thank you.” Bucky snorted and opened Clint’s bottle, handing it over first. Clint took a sip before he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. His heart was still racing but at least he could breathe again. 

“I know it all sounds… childish or crazy or I don’t know,” Clint said, tilting his head to look over. “But for the longest time in my life, I had trouble trusting people, even my own family. I learned early that you limit your range because you could only trust yourself. And then S.H.I.E.L.D. found me and I learned I could maybe let two more people close. And then Tasha, and while that was hard, she needed me just as much as I needed her. We had each other. And then… we got this family. And it’s hard, you’ve met Stark. It took a lot to break down those walls and conditionings from when I was younger. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I fall back into old habits. But I am trying Barnes.”

“I know you are,” Bucky replied. He wasn’t drinking his beer as much as he was playing with it.

For once, Clint was okay with the silence in the room. He thought it should have felt more heavy, but everything felt comfortable. Talking to Bucky felt comfortable and that was both relieving and terrifying. Clint at least didn’t feel like he needed to pretend anymore and that was a nice change of pace.

“One more hard topic for the night?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint agreed. He knew what it was going to be, and he knew they had to talk about it.

“The kiss.” Clint watched Bucky build up some wall himself and Clint wanted to reach out and hug him. “Was it because you have a thing under stressful situations or do you have feelings for me?”

Clint flinched at the words. Bucky was not going to back down, Clint could see it in his eyes. “You going to hit me?” Clint asked.

“Bitch, I might,” Bucky replied.

“No, you cannot use my own words against me, that’s not fair,” Clint laughed.

“You are stalling.”

“Shouldn’t you be used to that by now? You figured me out, I completely try to skate by life by not answering the harder questions,” Clint said.

“Way I see it, you can try to run, but I’ve got an extra arm on you,” Bucky pointed out with a smirk.

“Shiny one too,” Clint snorted.

Bucky was silent. Clint had hoped the banter would have made him forget but Bucky only watched Clint, waiting for an answer. Clint wanted nothing more than to tuck tail and run. He never thought it would come to having to actually talk about this, he thought he could keep himself together enough to squash the damn crush he had on Bucky.

“Fine,” Clint said. “I… might have feelings for you.”

“So that was a goodbye kiss,” Bucky exclaimed, sounding hurt.

“No, though it probably did come across that way,” Clint answered. “That was a Clint wanted to kiss you for awhile kiss, and he needed something to keep him going in case things turned to shit. It was a…” Clint had to think of the words. “A worth fighting for kiss,” Clint admitted, sighing. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have done it but-”

Bucky grabbed Clint’s loosened tie and pulled him over. This was what Clint had been waiting for. It wasn’t something rushed, it wasn’t rough or impersonal. It was light and warm, slow and something he could get lost in. The instant Clint tried to lean in for more, it was gone.

“Jesus, Buck,” Clint groaned. “If I knew you-”

“You are going to ruin the moment, stop talking,” Bucky warned. 

Clint wrinkled up his nose but he couldn’t hide his smile. It took a moment but Bucky leaned over, his head on Clint’s good shoulder. Clint closed his eyes, just enjoying the warmth. If this was a new thing with Bucky, him slowly starting to sprawl like Clint tended to do to everyone, he was not going to complain.

“We have to take this slow if we want this to be a thing- to work out.”

Clint felt himself tense for a moment before he forced himself to relax. Maybe he had heard Bucky wrong. The suddenness of the words probably not fully registering. “Hm?”

“I haven’t dated since before the war,” Bucky said. “And back then, this was a thing you did in the dark, behind closed doors, never talked about it. Sometimes it was a look but don’t you dare talk about it, touch it. This is new territory for me.”

Oh no, he heard him right and this- this was confusing to Clint. He sat up slowly, pulled away, his guards going back up in a snap. “You want this to be a thing?”

“Do you?” Bucky asked. “I want to at least try.”

“Are you asking me to go steady?” Clint asked, meaning to tease him. Bucky nodded and Clint just stared down at him. “You are crazy,” Clint muttered.

“If the words “I’m not worth it” come out of your mouth, I will drag you down to the pool, drown you, and hide your body in the vents.”

“That is oddly specific and terrifying,” Clint chuckled. “I am pretty sure that threat is a million times worse than when I threatened to cut off another appendage of yours,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah, still mad at you about that one,” Bucky said, pulling a face.

When Clint realized this wasn’t a joke, some cruel prank or pity date, he leaned back in, got comfortable. This was something they both wanted apparently and Clint couldn’t figure out when this became a thing for Bucky. He knew when it had became a thing for him- all the way back to their solo day, maybe before. But definitely solo day.

“But Clint- if we are going to make this work, you can’t just mask the pain and act like nothing's bothering you. You can’t pretend everything is fine when it’s not. You have to communicate that.”

“I’ll work on it,” Clint answered. “And if I have to work on something, you do too. You gotta let me do the stupid shit I do. Crawl in vents, push myself-”

“Not as hard as you have,” Bucky growled.

“Okay, calm down,” Clint conceded. “Not as hard. But… you have to trust that sometimes, even if I look like I am at breaking point that it’s important I see things through. I can’t stop when I know I can go an extra ten or twenty. And- the glove has got to go. I hate the glove.”

“Not right away, right?” Bucky asked. “Like.. slowly?”

“On your own time, but not at a snail's pace,” Clint answered. “At least stop wearing it around the tower. None of us care about it.”

“You have to start taking all of your vacation time in a year.”

“Are we really bargaining here?” Clint asked. Bucky gave him a stern look. Oh yeah, they were bargaining and making relationship rules. _How is this my life right now?_ Clint thought before he groaned, sinking into the couch a little more. “You are going to have to write this all down, because there is no chance in hell I am going to remember my laundry list.”

“Good thing for you I have a great memory,” Bucky said.

“Okay but wait- why are you so quick to jump on this?” Clint questioned. Bucky only smiled- it was an agitating smile when Clint wanted answers. “How long have you-”

Bucky was getting to his feet. “Come on. Bed.” Clearly it was a discussion that was going to wait. Clint was fine waiting- he had time.

“God, dating you is going to be a bitch,” Clint whined half-heartedly as he made it to his feet; the act didn’t look or feel graceful at all. “I still have to pack.”

“You didn’t pack and you knew we are leaving tomorrow?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes. “What did you _do?_”

“Played video games with Thor and braided Tasha’s hair,” Clint answered easily. Bucky stared at him in disbelief. “What?” Clint asked innocently. “I never see Thor anymore- we are both gone too much. And have you ever braided Tasha’s hair? It’s silk. And then she does this thing where she lets you lay on her lap and she plays with your hair and-”

“Am I going to guess she only lets you get away with that,” Bucky said. 

Clint couldn’t help but smirk. “I bet she would let Steve get away with it too,” he hinted. Bucky stopped in his tracks and stared as Clint walked ahead. “You tell him I said that and I will find a clever way to hide your body, Barnes.”

Before Clint could grab his door handle, Bucky had a hold of his wrist. Clint looked back, confused. Bucky let go of Clint’s wrist and hesitated before he signed something slowly, awkwardly, but it didn’t matter. _I like you too._ Clint was speechless and he bit his lip to keep himself from crying because it was a lot.

_You are learning to sign for me?_

Bucky blinked then grinned. “I have no idea what you signed. I only asked Natasha on how to do that one. Oh!” He picked his hands back up. _Are you hungry? Are you okay?_ Clint could feel his cheeks heating up. _Do you want dog?_ “No, shit, wait, that was wrong. Ah-”

_Shut up_ Clint signed, pushing Bucky’s hands away so he could kiss the man.


	24. Chapter 24

Clint leaned against the railing, feeding the ducks below. In the background he could make out the sounds of people laughing, things whirling by his head, but he was focusing on his breathing, on enjoying the small moments of quiet. It was something Bucky said he needed to do- learn to enjoy the small things, the quiet moments in life. Clint couldn’t argue, the more he did remember to take the time for the small things, the more he enjoyed them.

Clint and Bucky headed out the day after the Gala. They first went to Washington DC area- Bucky wanted to see the war memorials, needed to see Arlington. Clint- he just needed to watch Bucky enjoy himself. The memorials were a little jarring, Bucky falling back to an eerie quiet, but Clint just brushed his arm against Bucky’s as a gentle reminder he was there. Bucky could still remember some of the names, some of the stories. Clint listened.

The Smithsonian's though- Clint could barely keep up. Bucky was like a damn child on a sugar high looking through those museums. But the smile that played out on his face made it worth it. The best part was going through the Captain America section, and fans crowding because they wanted photos of Bucky in that section. Despite his pleads, Bucky forced Clint into the photos- Clint was sure this was payback for something he had done at some point. 

Every night Clint would hit the hot tub of their hotel, shower, and crash as soon as his head hit the pillow. Every morning when Clint woke up there was fresh coffee waiting for him. He could sit in peace, no hearing aids in, and just relax as he drank; it was the most stress free thing Clint could remember indulging in since… he couldn’t tell you when. It wasn’t until day three that Clint was with it enough before crashing to realize Bucky had made sure he was well under the covers, made him take a pain pill and drink some water, and take his hearing aids out. Clint couldn’t figure out how he got lucky enough for this to even be happening.

Clint finally pressed Bucky enough to remind him they couldn’t just stay in D.C., and promised they could come back next year. So they went down Bucky’s USA bucket list to figure out what was next. Sure, they made a lot of stops; Clint got restless if he sat too long, and Bucky was determined to be the only driver for two weeks.

“Clint!”

Clint turned and saw the biggest smile on Bucky’s face. He leaned against the railing and Bucky slowed down from his jog. “It. Was. Awesome.”

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked. “Got your first taste of a real roller coaster and here you are, living to tell the tale,” he teased. “Hell, I think you got to one of these before Steve has.”

Stop two was a theme park, which was a shit place to go when you couldn’t ride any of the rides but Clint was not going to bring that up. They had argued about which one to go to before they settled on one in Ohio, near the Lake Erie shores. Clint had threatened to leave Bucky drugged and naked on the side of the road if he said Disney- while Clint watched the movies in secret, he had a reputation damn it. And when Bucky looked this place up, it had promises of haunted houses and scare zones. Clint did love Halloween mischief. 

The only request for the night was that they had to save the ferris wheel for last. Clint was pretty sure it was supposed to be romantic or something, but Bucky had mentioned it about half a dozen times in the car. If it was that important to the guy, Clint was not going to forget it. 

“Next one,” Bucky urged, his arm brushing Clint’s as he walked.

No public displays of affection- that was the rule. Clint didn’t blame Bucky for it- it was too new to the guy and Clint wasn’t sure he wanted the media to catch on. Clint wanted to savor this relationship as long as he could before anyone outside of Nat and Steve found out. Anyway, the smaller moments right? The small touches were worth it.

“Slow down, we’ve got all day,” Clint laughed as he followed.

“Not if we keep getting stopped for pictures and-”

“Excuse me,” a woman said. Clint turned and saw a camera crew and a reporter. Busted. “Ca we have just a brief interview and then we will be on our way.”

Clint looked at Bucky who only shrugged. Bucky took a few steps back to rejoin Clint. “Alright, sure,” Clint replied.

The woman introduced herself to the camera before introducing Clint and Bucky. Bucky purposely elbowed Clint when he raised his hand to wave to the camera and Clint was trying to figure out a way to get back at him.

Most of the questions were pretty standard- what it was like working with the Avengers, was the risk worth the reward, even if you got hurt, and Clint’s current injury. Clint let Bucky handle most of the questions- he was the one who had the most to learn about the media anyway. Clint would knock into Bucky when he felt the man shift from nerves, scanning the crowd as if to act like it was an accident.

“Agent Barton,” the reporter said, catching Clint’s attention. “There was a lot of talk recently about what the team has gone through while taking on a new member who had a controversial background; and then you came out with your name, who you were behind the mask. What has the media attention been like since Agent Barnes has came along.”

Bucky seemed to hold his breath at the question. The question could easily be answered- it had been tense. The team was stressed, Clint was stressed- there was fighting, shouting, a lot of guilt. It was exactly what the media wanted to hear; they would have loved hearing about the team having fractures, he was sure.

Instead, Clint smiled. “I was nervous at first but… Barnes is more than worth anything the media could come up with to try to tear him down. So… I guess it’s not so bad afterall, am I right?” he asked, looking up at Bucky who looked a little shocked before he smiled and nodded. “Anyway- he’s my new favorite Avenger. Sorry Widow,” Clint added before he turned to run. She was going to murder him when they reunited. But Bucky’s surprised laugh…

_Worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for sticking through this with me! It's been fun! I feel like I could write about these two for ages and all the shit Clint will likely put Bucky through (and vise versa). But this was a good way to end it I think. 
> 
> =) Thanks for the kudos and the comments, they made me smile every time one popped up. You guys are amazing and supportive and I love it! If you get bored, I have a tumblr- come and chat with me. It's brittanyadrianne. 
> 
> Anyway! Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have ever shared any of my writing so that's not scary at all- nope! =) I just hope I can do these characters some justice and I don't epically fail at this.  
Anyway, hope you enjoy! Send me likes, comments, whatever. I'm friendly, I don't bite.


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